


It Started on a Monday

by Ellison



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Romance, Season 2 AU, Tommy Merlyn is Alive, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-01-27 23:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12593408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellison/pseuds/Ellison
Summary: Felicity is determined to conquer The Week from Hell, especially after she receives a surprise package from her mom, an invitation from Tommy Merlyn, and yet another series of confusing signals from Oliver Queen... and Halloween is just around the corner. A horrible Monday may just be the start of something new, if she can survive the week.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emmilyne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmilyne/gifts), [BookofLife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookofLife/gifts).



> This is my first step into non-academic writing, so please be kind! Reading works in this fandom has been such a relaxing, stress-relieving outlet for me. This work is a small attempt at giving back to a community that has offered such constant entertainment. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> I meant to have this out before Halloween but between constant costume changes for two small kids, a Halloween party for those small kids, and baking treats for school, I'm posting Chapter 1 the day after Halloween. Sorry! 
> 
> For the purposes of this AU, Tommy survived the Undertaking, as did Laurel, but both Tommy and Oliver realize any relationship with her is toxic (because she is just not one of my favorite people). She's not a major character, just mentioning it for clarity. Otherwise we can assume early Season 2 is moving along as usual.
> 
> The work is un-beta'd and all mistakes are my own.

It was 9:00am on a rainy Monday morning when the package arrived.

Felicity had already decided this was _The Day from Hell_ – appropriate given Halloween was a few days away. She had overslept her alarm (thanks to a very late night in the Foundry after a particularly nasty drug lord had gotten the drop on Oliver), scuffed the leather on her killer pair of stilettos when she tripped avoiding a couple who had stopped suddenly to spontaneously make out in the middle of the sidewalk, and, adding insult to injury, had dropped her latte all over the rain splattered sidewalk in front of Queen Consolidated.

The thing was, she couldn’t even begrudge the couple she tripped over. Who wouldn’t want to have someone so taken with them that they couldn’t possibly part for work on a Monday morning without one hell of an inappropriate-for-public kiss?

She wanted that.

More than she’d admit.

Her thoughts immediately, _immediately_ , veered into _Forbidden Territory_. Blue eyes. Rock-hard abs. Sexy-as-hell scruff that she was itching to runs her nails through. Biceps to-die-for. Biceps that would never be wrapped around her while she was kissed senseless in public.

Or, you know, anywhere.

A familiar weight settled in her gut and she was suddenly happy she didn’t have a full cup of coffee in her stomach.

She shook herself out of the morose thoughts, locked the dreams safely away in a corner of her mind she had labeled “To Be Opened Only in Case of the Apocalypse”, and turned her attention to the package in front of her while sipping the juice she’d swiped from the office break room down the hall. Whether it was the juice or the return address on the package, she wasn’t sure, but she choked. And because it was _The Day from Hell_ , the elevator dinged at that exact moment and Tommy Merlyn emerged to find her inelegantly coughing up the non-caffeinated swill while her eyes watered.

At least it wasn’t Isabel.

Tommy crossed to the table where she kept a pitcher of water for visitors, poured a glass, and returned to perch effortlessly on the edge of her desk, sparkling blue eyes and devil-may-care smile firmly in place as he held the glass out to her. “Not the usual reaction I get from the ladies, but I’ll take it. I’m going to chalk it up to my handsome face being just _too_ much for anyone to handle at his ungodly hour, even an evil genius like yourself.”

Felicity accepted it and leaned back in her chair with a groan. “You don’t happen to have anything stronger, do you?” she joked.

He cocked a dark eyebrow before smiling again, “Oh Miss Smoak, the ladies know I always have something stronger if they can handle…”

He trailed off when she fixed him with a steely gaze.

“That bad a day already, huh?”

“I’d say it can only go up from here, but…” she trailed off, eyes landing on the package before she could stop herself. She really didn’t want Tommy, or anyone for that matter, asking what was inside.

God, _she_ didn’t even want to know what was inside.

But because it was _The Day from Hell_ , of course Tommy noticed the direction of her gaze. He zeroed in on the package, learning forward to see the name of the sender and a wide grin spread across his face.

“Donna Smoak. Your mother I presume. What is it? A care package? Cookies? Moms send cookies, right?” he questioned, his enthusiasm building exponentially. “Wait – you’re from Vegas? How did I not know this?!”

Felicity smiled sadly for a second at his boyish enthusiasm over something as simple as the prospect of homemade cookies, recalling how Tommy has lost his mom at a young age and therefore had probably never received a package in the mail from a parent. With his mom long gone, and his father… no. Just, no. She shuddered at the thought of receiving anything in the mail from Malcolm Merlyn. Could one even ship doomsday devices through the mail? He probably could have. Good thing he was dead.

Then again, she wouldn’t put it past him to somehow be able send packages even from Hell.

She repressed a second shudder. Barely.

Her sympathy for Tommy quickly turned to panic as he reached for the box. Knowing her mother as she did, it could be anything from a collection of the latest vibrators to wildly inappropriate lingerie. God, it was so big she wouldn’t be surprised if her mom had actually packaged up a male escort and sent him express.

Care package indeed.

She lunged and grabbed the box before Tommy could touch it, a wild blush spreading across her cheeks and down her chest.

Tommy startled in surprise for a moment before following the trail of color and then smiling like he’d hit the jackpot.

“What’s in the package Miss Smoak?”

“Nothing.” She absolutely did not squeak as she said that. Nope. No squeaking.

Tommy’s grin spread even wider as he rose gracefully from her desk and sauntered around to stand behind her chair. She could feel him behind her even before he leaned forward, his breath coasting over her shoulder, the humor evident in his voice.

“Miss Smoak, is it possible you received something that is, shall we say, _not safe for work_?”

Felicity rallied. Channeled her inner … whatever. God, she needed caffeine. Good caffeine. Stat.

“Mister Merlyn, I’m sure you’re here to discuss more important matters than what may or may not be in this box. Mister Queen isn’t in yet, as you can see. Would you care to leave a message and I’ll tell him you stopped by?” she adopted her best EA voice, turning to look at him over the rim of her glasses.

“You know that voice combined with the glasses only makes this whole situation hotter, right?” His voice was tinged with even more laughter now. “Please tell me you use that on Ollie at least once a day. You’d bring him to his knees faster than any criminal. In a good way of course.”

Ignoring the implications of that comment, Felicity gathered her wits and rose from her chair, causing him to take a step back. She purposefully ignored the box, placing it on a table to the side of her desk as she gathered files Oliver would need for the day, and strode into his office, hoping beyond hope that Tommy would get the message and drop the topic.

But, lest she forget, it was _The Day from Hell_.

So, no.

Placing the folders on Oliver’s desk, she turned purposefully on her heel only to find Tommy lounging against the door frame to the office, gently shaking the package back and forth.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“It’s a Monday morning Miss Smoak, and I dragged myself out of bed at this godforsaken hour to deliver important paperwork and discuss important things with my dearly deranged friend, only to find he’s not here yet. But you are, of course, _and_ you are delightfully flustered by this innocent looking box, so… nope. Not going to let it go. I shall take my pleasure where I can.”

She sighed, cocking her head to the side as she looked at him.

“So you’re saying you’re going to take your pleasure from me?” She mentally face palmed as soon as the words left her mouth. Tommy, to his credit, moved right past it with only a sparkle in his eye and a smirk on his lips.

“What’s in the box Miss Smoak?”

She glanced at the clock on the wall.

9:15

Oliver wouldn’t likely be in till at least 9:30. She could get Tommy focused on something else by then. Hide the box. End this conversation. Oliver would be none the wiser. She could handle many things, but Oliver ever seeing whatever was in that box? No.

She reviewed her options.

Lying? She was the worst liar in the world – worse than Oliver, which was saying something. So, lying was out.

A fire alarm? Very childish and irresponsible, but it never failed. She looked around in desperation, finding none. No surprise, this was the office of the CEO of a Fortune 500, not a middle school hallway.

She barely stopped herself from stomping her foot in frustration.

God, she was a freaking genius. Why couldn’t she come up with some believable answer to throw him off the scent? She blamed it entirely on the lack of caffeine. Even genius-level intellect needed fuel.

Tommy shook the box again for emphasis.

“I could just open it myself…” he trailed off suggestively.

“It’s illegal to open other people’s mail.”

He snorted in amusement. “Seriously, that’s what you’re going with? You, of all people?”

She sighed. He had a point.

“I could wait till Ollie gets here and tell him it was a security risk; that you seemed _very_ concerned about it – which isn’t a lie by the way – then _he_ could open it. Hmmm, maybe even Mr. Diggle should be here as well…”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would.”

“He’d never believe you. I’d just point out it was from my mom-”

“You honestly think Mr. Overprotective will hear anything past, ‘Felicity received a suspicious package’?”

“…”

He rattled the box again, an evil glint in his eye.

She glared.

He slid one finger under the edge of the tape sealing the package.

She glared harder.

Wasn’t there some saying about the truth setting you free? She wanted to be free of this day. Desperately.

She heard the packing tape being to give way.

So, the truth it was then.

“A Halloween costume,” she muttered, brushing past him.

“Excuse me, what was that”? He sounded utterly delighted.

“A Halloween costume. At least I assume it is, okay? Every Halloween my mom sends me some wildly inappropriate costume in the hopes that I’ll wear it and, quote, ‘go out and have some fun, honey,’ which is code for find a man so my life has meaning. Because one night stands with men who only notice me because of some sexy costume will give my life meaning. Not graduating early from one of the best universities in the country with a dual degree, but meaningless sex with a complete stranger.”

Tommy paused a moment, hearing the frustration underlying that rant. He was well acquainted with parental disappointment, and while Felicity’s mom clearly wasn’t a serial killer/assassin/psychopath bent on world domination, she evidently did express her displeasure with her daughter’s life choices.

But there was more than bitterness to her tone. There was an underlying … sadness.

Tommy would be confused by Felicity’s lack of a love life given she was seriously hot – he hadn’t been kidding earlier about that voice and the glasses – and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed her killer legs and ass on more than one occasion – when Oliver was a minimal safe distance away of course – except he had his suspicions as to _why_ she was still single.

Strong suspicions.

And those suspicions centered not on her work schedule (which was legitimately insane), or men not noticing her as she claimed (again, legitimately insane), but rather on one very dense, self-flagellating, green-clad vigilante who seemed determined to be miserable and deny himself any sort of personal happiness. Particularly when it was right in front of him on a daily basis, wearing glasses, killer skirts, and saving his ass.

Felicity wasn’t currently seeing anyone, even casually, or at least he assumed so given the inordinate number of hours she devoted to work at QC and to Team Arrow, and, more to the point in his opinion, due to the fact that the Arrow hadn’t _put_ an arrow in some random accountant or computer nerd. At least to his knowledge. And if Felicity were seeing someone, he pretty much assumed that person would find himself on the business end of an arrow once a certain bow-wielding vigilante found out about it.

“She works in Vegas and is friends with the head costume designer for the shows at Bally’s. She always has him make me a costume.”

Well, that jolted Tommy right out of his rambling thoughts.

“Come again,” he breathed out in wonder.

She fixed him with a look and a long suffering sigh.

“I’m sorry, did you just say that there’s a costume in this box, a costumed specifically fitted to you, designed _for you_ , by the same man who designs costumes for some of the most famous showgirls on the planet?”

“…”

“Miss Smoak?”

“Well, when you put it that way…”

“A costume specifically designed to be sexy and ensnare men?”

“….”

“And you’re not going to open it?!”

Felicity smiled at the outrage evident in Tommy’s voice and decided she deserved to have a bit of fun this morning. The universe owed her.

“She sends one every year. I have an entire closet full of them.”

Was it possible to choke on air? Because Tommy appeared to be choking on air.

“An entire…,” he trailed off, a dreamy expression washing over his face before he rallied admirably, striding back toward her desk and reaching for a pair of scissors. “We’re opening this. Now.”

She lunged, snatching the scissors out of his hands.

“No. _We_ are doing no such thing.”

“You can model it for me.”

The glare she leveled him with was worthy of the Arrow. To his credit, Tommy didn’t even flinch.

“Come on! I need to know what it is! You can’t leave me hanging like this!”

“Are you seriously whining like a five year old?” She couldn’t help the huff of laughter that escaped. Leave it to Tommy to turn even something as stressful as _The Day from Hell_ and parental disappointment into something funny. She was never happier that he and Oliver had buried the hatchet then she was in moments like this. Tommy’s joy for life and seemingly endless sense of humor were something Oliver desperately needed.

Turns out she did too.

Tommy Merlyn was a rare gem.

It had taken Tommy and Oliver awhile to find a new normal, to find their way back to being friends, _brothers_ , but they had done it. Reconciling after the events of the Undertaking, the tumultuous end to Tommy’s relationship with Laurel, Oliver’s epic lapse in judgement regarding Laurel and eventual realization that she was toxic, and Tommy’s resultant major injuries hadn’t been easy. It had taken its toll on both of them, especially after Oliver up and disappeared for five months while Tommy was recovering. But in that time Felicity had gotten to know Tommy, visiting him awkwardly in the hospital (since Oliver wasn’t around to do so) and seeing him around the club as she rebuilt the Lair. Helping him, inadvertently, move past his unhealthy relationship with Laurel by showing him that it was okay to be exactly who he was. That he didn’t need to change to meet other people’s expectations, be anybody’s second choice. That he wasn’t at fault for the sins of his father and didn’t deserve the animosity many in the city were heaping upon him. In short, she just became his friend.

It had been awkward at first since Tommy didn’t quite understand who she was and how she fit into Oliver’s world, but after a surprisingly short amount of time he found he simply couldn’t resist Felicity’s optimism and endearing awkwardness.

He also learned rather quickly that Felicity Smoak was clearly in charge of the entire Arrow business. Oliver, Mr. Diggle… they seemed to do whatever she said. When Oliver eventually returned (aka when Felicity and Mr. Diggle dragged his ass back from Lian Yu), Tommy had been reluctant to talk to him. But, as family were want to do, Tommy and Oliver had found a way back to each other. Felicity had played a large part in that, and Tommy would be forever grateful to her for the role she played.

A surprise side-effect of being an honorary member of Team Arrow was that he had front row seats to the most insane displays of eye-sex and UST that he had ever seen. He didn’t know how Mr. Diggle had tolerated it for so long. He would have locked Ollie and his feisty blonde genius in a closet a long time ago.

At first, he hadn’t understood why Ollie hadn’t made a move on the woman he was clearly attracted to. But then he came to understand that this wasn’t the old Ollie chasing after a pretty woman for a fling. This was Oliver and he was in love with a woman who was also his best friend and partner. A woman who was so important in all aspects of his life that he had convinced himself she was just a close friend and partner so that he could keep her near yet also at arm’s length. And Felicity, well she thought Oliver didn’t see her as anything but tech support.

There was also a whopping helping of self-doubt and low self-esteem on both ends that, frankly, surprised him. He’d never seen Oliver insecure around a woman. And Felicity - did she not own a mirror? For two competent, insanely attractive people, they were surprisingly clueless when it came to emotions and relationships.

Which brought him to the present. Another one of his regular visits to the offices of Queen Consolidated’s beleaguered CEO and subsequent shameless flirting attempts with said CEO’s less-than- enthusiastic EA.

Oliver may spend his nights planning missions to take down the city’s criminal elite, but Tommy? He knew where his strengths lay. And one of those strength’s? World’s. Best. Wingman.

And he was determined to get Oliver to make a move.

So far he hadn’t spurred him into action through simple logic or even jealousy – the latter he honestly thought would work given the glare Oliver leveled at any man who approached Felicity – but it didn’t mean Tommy didn’t enjoy the attempts all the same. Watching Tommy spend time with Felicity definitely riled Oliver up, despite his attempts to pretend otherwise. And it made Felicity smile, so it was a win-win in Tommy’s book.

But he had to up his game. Use a few tricks so they could get treats, so to speak. Hence his presence here at this ungodly hour. Felicity’s mystery package was just icing on the cake. A sign from the universe really.

“Well, why don’t you just open it a smidge, take a look, and then give me a hint? I can work with a hint.”

She couldn’t control the snort of disbelief if she wanted to. Did he seriously just pout? How could someone make a pout look sexy?

“It’s a talent. Is it working for you?”

Felicity sat down in her seat with a sigh. “Said that out loud?”

“Yes, and I truly appreciate knowing my charms aren’t going to waste. I’ve spent many hours in front of a mirror perfecting that pout. You’d be surprised what I can get with it. Now, how about you open that box and…”

“No.”

“But I got up so _early_ today.”

“You mean at a time normal people get up and go to work?”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Then how am I supposed to come up with amazingly inappropriate and irresistible pick-up lines to use on you when you wear it to my Halloween party?”

Felicity honest to God laughed out loud at that one.

“Oh no. There’s no way I’m wearing whatever is in _this_ box out in public. And I’m not going to your party.”

“Yes you are.”

“I’m really not.”

“You really are.”

“You haven’t actually invited me.”

Tommy’s grin could only be described as devilish as he reached into his jacket pocket and produced a sparkly black envelope.

Yep, she walked right into that one.

“That’s not actually for me, is it? You just carry extras around for when you run into women.”

“You wound me Miss Smoak. Did I not say earlier that I got up at this ungodly hour to deliver important paperwork?” He presented the envelope with an exaggerated flourish and sure enough, there was her name, emblazoned in bold green lettering across the front.

“I carry the unmarked ones in my other pocket,” he added in a whisper.

Felicity couldn’t help but smile at him – he was really was incorrigible. And the green was a nice touch.

“You’re coming, by the way, I won’t accept any excuses. It’s not a work night. I won’t let Ollie keep you cooped up in that dungeon – even if it is appropriate on Halloween – and…”

“Tommy…” her voice trailed off as she considered attending the party. She knew it would be a sight to behold – how could a party thrown by Tommy Merlyn be anything but amazing – and God knew she needed the break, but…“I won’t know anyone there. It’s not exactly fun to go to a party and hang out alone. I haven’t made many friends here in Starling, aside from … you know… the team. I had some fun coworkers who I thought were my friends when I worked in IT, but after my promotion…. Well, let’s just say I haven’t had time to make new friends lately. And God, that makes me sound so pathetic.” She didn’t want to add that she had no desire to see scantily clad women throw themselves at Oliver and inevitably see him leave with one of them.

Tommy studied her seriously for a moment, dropping the cavalier attitude as he leaned forward.

“Felicity…”

She looked up at that. He rarely called her by her first name.

“Felicity, I’ll be there. Roy and Thea will be there. More to the point, Ollie will be there. Do you really think he’ll let you out of his sight, especially if you’re in a sexy costume?”

She chose to ignore the heat that coursed through her at the mere possibility of that last part and focused on the rest. “You and Roy will be busy with club duties…and Thea doesn’t really know me aside from being the person who sets up the club’s wifi…”

“You’re coming. End of story. And you’re wearing whatever the hell is in that box because I simply cannot handle the mystery. And the men of Starling City deserve to see gorgeous women in showgirl costumes.”

She looked down at the invitation again, smothering a grin at his obvious fishing attempt.

“I can guarantee you it’s not a showgirl costume.”

“Sexy nurse?”

“Please, my mother is more original than that.”

“Sexy cowgirl?”

She cocked an eyebrow.

“Please tell me it’s sexy cowgirl. I have literally dozens of pick-up lines that involve roping and riding.”

“Oh God, please tell me you don’t.”

“I do. Wanna hear one?

“I can unequivocally say no.”

“Sexy librarian?”

Now he had her laughing.

“You’re right – never mind – you don’t need a costume for that. It’s your daily look.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Tommy, you’ll never guess it. She always comes up with completely random costumes. My mother has a seriously unbeatable talent with it comes to inappropriate clothing. Besides, even if I go I won’t dress up. I’ll just stop by for a drink or two before heading down to… you know, my other job.”

“I’m going to ignore all of what you just said except that you’ll be there and you’ll drink.” He moved around to her side of the desk and perched charmingly on the corner, his billionaire-bachelor-about-town persona perfectly in place.

“Please tell me your mom has read Fifty Shades and there’s a dominatrix outfit in that box. Not usually my thing but I am more than willing to rise to the challenge. Leather, fishnets, a riding crop. A whip! Pick-up lines featuring ‘Yes, Miss Smoak!’ and ‘Please, _harder_ , Miss Smoak!’ And I bet you can pull off the leather and a whip look – god knows you’re around it often enough. Well, the leather that is, unless Oliver is keeping something else pivotal from me. So, what do you say _Miss Smoak_ , want to open that box, try on that costume and see if you can bring me to my knees?”

He was in full court press now – eyebrows waggling and eyes sparkling as he leaned forward and rested his hands on the armrests of her chair, effectively caging her in as she began laughing in earnest.

Felicity reached out to push him back by the shoulders, and, of course, Oliver chose that exact moment to round the corner.

“What’s going on here?”

The quiet dark in his voice rivaled that of the Arrow with the voice modulator on. Tommy shot up from his position faster than Felicity thought possible and turned to meet his friend’s carefully controlled look with a charming smile.

“Heeeeey buddy – Miss Smoak and I were just discussing Halloween and … stuff.” Felicity, meanwhile, was mentally replaying the scene and realized Oliver had probably heard bits and pieces about leather, whips, Tommy on his knees for her and… ya. Just… ya. Great.

Lest she forget. The. Day. From. Hell.

Oliver’s eyes zeroed in on Tommy after that oh-so-innocent reply before fixing on Felicity.

She stood up, aiming to grab whatever important looking papers and folders she could find and head into Oliver’s office before some wildly inappropriate ramble fell from her lips, but stopped when she heard his breath hitch.

She watched as he slowly took in her appearance – her flushed cheeks and high ponytail, down over her dress. She allowed herself a small pat on the back for picking the cream colored cashmere. It wasn’t her usual style – not a bright color – but it hugged her curves perfectly and the color complimented her creamy complexion. And nicely offset the gold and diamond arrow necklace resting perfectly against her collarbones. She had seen it in a small boutique during a rare shopping expedition and couldn’t resist buying it. Evidently arrows were all the rage right now in Starling as the Arrow was gaining support among the wider population of the city, so she could wear it without raising too many questions. And she liked the inside joke. It was like wearing a team jacket or something… which she _never_ did during her school days as she and athletics did not mix.

Veering back on track from that mental tangent, she watched his eyes track to her red stilettos, narrowing briefly as he took a deep breath, then back up before fixing on the necklace. She honestly lost track of everything around her as she just stood there and watched Oliver stare at the necklace. He tilted his head slightly to the side, a purely feline movement. She watched, transfixed, as he swallowed.

That little movement caused heat to flash through her, lighting up nerve endings along the way and heading straight for her core. God, how could the man make swallowing a turn-on? It simply wasn’t fair.

She must have made a small noise or moved because his eyes suddenly flashed back to hers and she felt all the stress from the morning and the anxiety from her mother’s package melt away as she got lost in Oliver’s eyes. The blue was darker than usual, almost cobalt now, a mix of emotions swirling there that she didn’t even want to try and identify given the lack of caffeine and how her morning had gone so far. But, the air felt weirdly charged, the atmosphere thick with … something. Heat rushed through her and she didn’t need a mirror to tell her that she was flushed with arousal before she could stamp it down. Damn it. Her reactions were so inappropriate. Why couldn’t she control herself around him?

And really, what the hell was going on? As if this day wasn’t bad enough, now she had to contend with looks from Oliver that were making her see things in his expression that weren’t really there. There was no way he was looking at her like she hoped he was.

She’d come to terms with her friend-zone status with Oliver; he was her partner and friend and nothing more. Getting her hopes up would only end in heartache and ruin the most important thing she had going on in her life – helping Team Arrow. But God, every now and then she slipped and let herself imagine Oliver looking at her differently. Looking at her like…

She shook herself.

It was all too much to deal with on too few hours of sleep and no caffeine. She couldn’t get her walls back up in place fast enough, but she desperately needed to.

Thus, she needed caffeine. And to stop staring at Oliver.

Any moment now.

Instead, she continued to stare at him, cataloguing every detail – she simply couldn’t stop herself, as usual. He was wearing the grey suit and crisp white dress shirt that just _did_ things to hear. Made her imagine things happening on his desk that she should absolutely _not_ imagine happening on his desk.

But hell, she was only human.

Her eyes fixed on the white of the shirt contrasting with his golden, tanned skin and she bit her lip to keep a moan from escaping before locking eyes with him once more, watching his own slowly soften as they often did when he was looking at her. He probably appreciated having an uncomplicated friend around. God knew his life was complicated enough. Guess she should be happy with being the friend he felt no confusion or upset around. She was completely…. safe.

_Safe._

And didn’t that thought just send a wave of nausea swirling through her gut. God, this morning officially sucked.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

She chose to ignore Tommy’s muttered “seriously?” as she broke the weird tension between herself and Oliver by reaching for her tablet.

“You’re late, but I won’t punish you for it…” Tommy choked on laughter beside her and she mentally cursed herself given their previous conversation topic. “I mean I will ignore it given what we did last night. You must be exhausted.”

Tommy lost all pretense of trying not to laugh and just turned and headed into Oliver’s office as Felicity closed her eyes and mentally counted down from three. She could swear she heard a muffled, “Hopefully exhausted from being on his knees all night _Miss Smoak_ …” trail behind him, but valiantly chose to ignore it.

“What I meant to say is that I’ve moved all your morning meetings to later this afternoon and rescheduled the ones I could, so it should be a relatively light day.”

When she opened her eyes Oliver was much closer than he had been before, close enough that she could smell the soap he used and the scent of wood and leather and something else that seemed to be unique to him. She couldn’t help the flutter in her stomach.

“Tommy mentioned something about Halloween?”

She glanced at the box on her desk. Yep, not opening that can of worms again.

“I’m sure he’ll tell you on his own, it seems to be why he’s here.”

Oliver sighed. “It’s the party, isn’t it? I forgot all about it. He’s always thrown a hell of a Halloween party, and that’s saying something given the parties he’s thrown.”

“He’s going to invite you – clearly. It’s at Verdant. You should go. Take a night off. Besides, you are technically his partner for the club, even if Thea handles the day-to-day stuff now. You should make an appearance.”

“You know me, crowds aren’t really my thing, and Thea’s taken over my role at this point. It would be more important for her to be seen there than me.” He cleared his throat. “But what about you? You planning on going?” The timber of his voice was off. She noted it immediately.

He sounded hesitant and was shifting his weight in a way that would have made her think he were nervous, were he anyone other than Oliver Queen. She had never seen him nervous before. And a Halloween party certainly didn’t warrant nervousness in anyone (save herself), let alone a fearless vigilante.

“Costumes aren’t really _my_ thing, well, your costume is my thing. I mean, not my _thing_ thing, but your thing and I see your thing on a nightly basis. Well, not your _thing_ thing,” she gestured at the general area below his waist before she stopped abruptly, surprised by the slight uptick of his lips as a warm pink spread across his cheeks.

He was blushing.

_Oliver was blushing._

Wait. Why was Oliver blushing?

She cocked her head in slight confusion and then replayed the last thirty seconds.

“Oh my God, Oliver – why don’t you stop me when I go off like this? I should not be allowed around people before I’ve had coffee. It’s like I verbally accost people – well, you mostly – all the time. I’m literally some sort of word villain. You should stop me! Chase me down and shoot me like you do other bad guys. Although it’s not like I’d be running away, since I’m not some super athletic villain. Just a pathetic word villain. So you wouldn’t need to chase me, or shoot me. I’d pathetically just stand here and you could shove your huge arrow in me.”

He made a choking sound.

“God. I just did it again,” she muttered to herself as she sat down in her chair and put her head in her hands, willing the universe to just let her rewind the entire morning and say something not laden with sexual innuendoes to him once.

Just once.

Suddenly the glorious smell of coffee and pumpkin spice hit her and she lifted her head to see he was holding out a steaming hot cup of coffee from her favorite café.

“One grande, nonfat latte with extra sugar,” he paused for a second before leaning closer, “which I happen to know _is_ your thing.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. He’d never referenced her verbal gaffes before. Ever.

“I added the pumpkin spice – seemed fitting. Hope you don’t mind.”

Oliver actually remembered a holiday? And her usual coffee order? And… was he joking around with her? What was going on? There was no way this was happening. Maybe she had actually tripped over that kissing-couple earlier, hit her head on the sidewalk and passed out. Maybe this whole thing was a dream? Yes, that was much more plausible than Oliver Queen remembering something that didn’t have to do with organized crime, super villains or leggy brunette ex-girlfriends all while sending her intense looks that got her all hot and bothered. She’d figure it out later. Right now – she wanted that coffee and couldn’t help her squeal of excitement as she made grabby hands for the cup.

He huffed a small , which she took that as a major victory. Oliver needed to laugh more often.

She took a long sip of the coffee to buy herself time to gather her thoughts, but was unable to control the moan that escaped her lips at the delicious taste.

“Oh my God Oliver, sooooo good.”

A harsh breath escaped him and his pupils seemed to dilate as she watched. She licked the foam from her lip before she could stop herself and his fists clenched at his sides. Okay – probably not her finest display of table manners. She probably should have used a napkin or something because he continued to just stand there, staring at her mouth.

Oh God. Did she have more foam on her lip? She should really find a napkin. Except she couldn’t stop staring at him. It’s like she was frozen in place. And he was still staring at her mouth.

She felt suddenly self-conscious. Maybe she had really offended him with her rambles this time, or he was disgusted by her lack of manners and he was just too polite to say anything. Like she needed another reminder that she wasn’t a graduate of the Moira Queen School of Social Decorum. Oliver probably hadn’t spent much time around women who weren’t perfectly groomed to fit into his world, though you’d think he’d be used to her social gaffes by now after all the time they spent together.

Yet, his body language screamed tense and uncomfortable.

But before she had time to process that, Tommy’s voice floated across the office. “I’m dying in here Ollie, where’s the good coffee? And why is your coffee maker broken?”

It broke the weird bubble the two of them had been in and Felicity huffed a small laugh before sharing a smile with Oliver at the mention of the coffee maker and the memorable morning he had made her his EA and unwisely asked her to bring him a coffee. Before she could say anything, he was turning on his heel and striding into his office, leaving Felicity to wonder what the hell had just happened.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combine Felicity Smoak and a mystery package, Tommy Merlyn and his wingman tactics, and broody Oliver Queen on a Monday morning... turns out Felicity is not the only one dealing with The Day from Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Your response to the first chapter blew me away. I can't thank everyone enough for the kind words and feedback and kudos.
> 
> We switch mainly to Oliver's POV in this chapter, so there is some brooding. And angst. And denial. It's Oliver. I really can't picture him being an optimistic person on a Monday morning :)
> 
> I found this chapter a bit more difficult to write because I find Oliver's headspace to be tricky at times, so it's a bit shorter than Chapter 1, but it moves things along and we'll jump forward in the week in the next chapter. Till then, enjoy!

_Previously in It Started on a Monday…._

 

_Tommy’s voice floated across the office. “I’m dying in here Ollie, where’s the good coffee? And why is your coffee maker broken?”_

_It broke the weird bubble the two of them had been in and Felicity huffed a small laugh before sharing a smile with Oliver at the mention of the coffee maker and the memorable morning he had made her his EA and unwisely asked her to bring him a coffee. Before she could say anything, he was turning on his heel and striding into his office, leaving Felicity to wonder what the hell had just happened._

 

Oliver steeled himself as he turned.

Felicity was going to be the death of him. She wasn’t even trying to flirt with him and he had barely been able to control his reaction to her. God – that soft moan she made when she sipped the coffee? Her pink tongue darting out to lick the foam from her lip? Oliver had only _just_ been able to stop himself from leaning forward and licking it off for her. From imaging _everywhere_ else he wanted to lick things off her.

Which is why he now found himself striding into his own office trying to school his expression, feeling equally frustrated by and grateful for Tommy’s timely interruption, while desperately hoping his friend wouldn’t notice how tight his pants had gotten.

God, he hoped _Felicity_ hadn’t noticed.

Because she was _just_ his friend and he should be able to watch her drink a damn coffee without getting a hard-on. It was so utterly inappropriate he didn’t even know where to begin.

He’d been so tense and frustrated standing there, trying to get himself under control. He hadn’t lost control of his body like that since he was a teenager and Felicity hadn’t even touched him. All she’d done was _drink coffee_.  

 _Christ_ , five years in hell had taught him utter control of his emotions and body. At least he’d thought so until Felicity Smoak entered his life. Turns out all that was required to completely make him lose his well-honed self-control was a tiny blonde genius going about her usual day.

Or, maybe it was just that it had been months since he’d had any sort of physical contact with a woman.

Felicity was attractive. That was simply an objective observation on his part. And he was a man that clearly loved women. He could freely admit that. He and Felicity spent so much time around each, it was perfectly natural that he’d start to have… _thoughts_ about her.

That had to be the explanation. It made perfect sense.

Maybe he just needed to remedy that situation.

His playboy persona needed to be maintained in the tabloids after all, and he’d been noticeably absent from the society pages lately. While that was honestly his preference – he truly _detested_ the gossip and speculation about his private life - he had a cover to maintain. He was sure he could find some fundraiser to attend in the next week or so. And a woman eager to be his date for the night.  

But he loathed the thought of spending the evening with a vapid socialite clinging to his arm, trying to be the one who finally tamed the infamous Oliver Queen.

Besides, attending a fundraiser would defeat the purpose of spending time away from Felicity and with another woman. Since becoming his EA, she was always at his side at those events, making sure he knew the names of everyone who approached him and keeping an eye on police reports with her ever-present tablet in case there was something that needed the team’s immediate attention. Her running commentary on the usual attendees was the only thing that made them tolerable. He really couldn’t imagine telling her to hang out along the fringes of the party while he entertained a date.

It would be rude.

And friends weren’t rude to each other.

Maybe he could skip the fundraiser and just keep his distance from Felicity for a few days. Let the … _whatever_ this was he was feeling… naturally fizzle out. He was sure it would.

With some time and space.

Away from Felicity.

His gut tightened painfully as a wave of nausea hit him.

On second thought, now clearly wouldn’t be the best time to put some much-needed distance between them. He was obviously exhausted, and Felicity was too integral to things running smoothly in both the professional and vigilante-related facets of his life for him to think he could just go back to flying solo like he had during his early days as the Hood.

Things were hectic right now – both at QC and around the city. Isabel was gunning for his family’s company and every criminal out there seemed to want to make a name for himself by taking on the Arrow. He clearly couldn’t take a vacation – the idea was laughable – and it would be irresponsible of him to force one on Felicity when there was so much work to do.

Best to maintain the current status quo and just be more careful of his actions around her.

It was a smart strategy. And he excelled at strategy. 

Satisfied with his own reasoning, he shrugged off his suit coat and casually draped it over his arm, letting it hang in front of him as he continued forward to his desk.

Tommy was lounging on the low, black leather couch, his foot balanced on one knee, shit-eating grin firmly in place as his eyes tracked his friend’s progress.

Olive sighed. He knew what was coming and it was too damn early on a Monday morning for this. Especially given how this morning had already gone. Tommy had been on him for weeks about making a move on Felicity despite his assurance that she was just his friend.

His brilliant friend.

And partner.

And colleague.

From whom he needed to keep a bit of distance.

Their relationship was professional. _Purely professional_.

Which meant he absolutely should not have felt an inexplicable surge of…. something…. that made him want to pull Tommy away from Felicity the minute he walked into the office and found them so close together, laughing.

About leather and whips.

He fought to keep the scowl off his face as the moment replayed in his mind. But really? _Leather and whips_?

Knowing now that Tommy was there simply to invite Felicity to his Halloween party didn’t help. Even though they were _just friends_. Because Oliver was _just friends_ with her. And for some reason, he didn’t care for the parallel.

He loved Tommy like a brother, but Tommy Merlyn didn’t have friends who were women. He had women that started off as friends and always, _always,_ became something more. And the thought of that happening between Tommy and Felicity…

God, he needed a break. He needed a break and some space, because he was acting like an ass.  

They were two of his closest friends and both amazing people. What the hell was wrong with him that he would want them apart if they were happy together? In fact, it would solve his current issue with Felicity is she were with Tommy. Because there was no way in hell Oliver would allow himself to ever again have thoughts about a woman Tommy was in a relationship with.

It’s not like he could be with Felicity, even if he wanted to.

 _Which he didn’t_.

His life didn’t allow time for relationships. At least not serious ones. His past few attempts clearly showed that.

And, more to the point, Felicity didn’t see him that way. Of that he was positive.

Despite the innuendos she dropped on him on a regular basis – case in point, their _entire_ interaction so far today – and the fact that he knew she found him physically attractive and loved to watch him workout, there was no way a woman as smart and talented as Felicity Smoak would ever get involved with him. He was damaged goods, and she had had front row seats to his numerous romantic disasters over the past year and a half if she needed further proof of that. There was no way she’d want anything to do with him romantically. 

Even if Oliver were interested in her that way.

Which, again, _he wasn’t_.

He didn’t understand why Tommy didn’t get that. Why he kept imagining some sort of ridiculous unrequited love story between the two of them.

It was probably because Tommy was Tommy and loved ribbing Oliver. And because he likely needed something to distract himself from his own problems. Especially after the events of the past year.

Breaking up with Laurel because he’d realized she didn’t really love him, that she had used him as a romantic place holder; finding out his father was the mastermind behind the Undertaking; the betrayal he’d suffered when Oliver had slept with Laurel in a moment of absolute stupidity – a desperate play for some return to normalcy that betrayed a far older, deeper relationship. A brotherhood.

The guilt he felt from that lapse in judgement still made him ill, and drove home just how toxic he and Laurel were for each other. How prone he was to horrible decisions around her. And God, even the sex had been empty. _So incredibly empty_. He hadn’t felt anything other than the overwhelming crush of past expectations. Of failed attempts to please her and live up to whatever storybook relationship she had built up in her head for the two of them. By the end of it, he couldn’t get out of her apartment fast enough, which was an asshole move on his part, he could admit. But it hadn’t stopped him.

The entire interaction made him sick.

He had no desire to be that flippant playboy solving problems with sex, yet somehow, she brought it out in him. Perhaps because she still saw the old Ollie. She didn’t know anything about the man had become. Not the way Felicity and Digg did. Hell, even Tommy was open to knowing the Oliver that had been born during those five years away.  Laurel had no real desire to do that, just to pick up where they’d left off and move ahead towards the future she had planned out. A future he had _never_ wanted.

He wasn’t that person anymore, he knew that in his bones.

But, evidently, he was _still_ the asshole guy who fantasized about his attractive, smart, off-limits friend.

A friend who deserved every bit of happiness this damned world had to offer.

He looked up to find that Tommy had turned and was smiling at Felicity though the glass walls of the office, making a pleading gesture with his hands as she shoved a box under her desk and glared at him before allowing a small smile to break out on her face as she shook her head at him in amusement.

Tommy was a good guy – a guy Felicity wouldn’t have to lie to about how she spent her evenings; a guy who knew how to make her laugh and smile and could provide a good home for her.

Not that she couldn’t provide one for herself, he quickly backpedaled and corrected himself as he cringed mentally at the thought of her ever hearing him say she needed a man to provide for her. He could just imagine the reaction, and it wasn’t pretty.

Which, oddly enough, made him smile. Felicity was a force to be reckoned with when she was fired up. She could take on the whole damn world if she set her mind to it, of that he had no doubt.

And how the hell had he jumped from overhearing two friends joking around about Halloween to thoughts of them married?

He felt physically ill. And tired.

Felicity was right – as usual. Last night had been exhausting and it was clearly affecting him more than he realized. Which explained his entire interaction with her this morning. He had never before acknowledged her verbal gaffes. But, for some reason, this morning he had. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. And they had been borderline flirtatious.

It was a moment of weakness.

He needed to clear his head and focus and not let it happen again, no matter how natural and right it felt to flirt with her, to make her blush and laugh.

He sighed, the smile slipping from his face as he busied himself with glancing over the emails in his in-box, all the while trying to ignore Tommy’s growing grin.

He loved him like a brother, but he just didn’t want to deal with this nonsense right now.

“So, Oliver, to what do we owe the rare smile that just crossed your face? It’s the party right? Costumes are mandatory – so you should feel perfectly comfortable! I have your invitation right here – but clearly you don’t need one seeing as how you own the club. But inviting Miss Smoak in person was a necessity, so here I am! And, as it turns out, this is the highlight of my week!”

“Tommy, It’s only Monday morning.”

“Yes, but trust me, once you find out what I just found out, you’ll see why this morning is the gift that will just keep on giving,” Tommy gleefully drawled out, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Oliver honestly didn’t know whether to be relieved or panicked at the realization that Tommy had stopped by the office to invite Felicity to the party and not just harass him about asking her out, because Oliver remembered those parties. Vividly. Hell, he’d helped to organize more of them than he cared to admit.

Halloween parties were always one of Tommy’s best, if by best one meant that they included an inordinate number of scantily clad women, free-flowing alcohol, and guys who were more than willing to take advantage of a night where _everyone_ seemed to throw caution to the wind. Guys like he and Tommy used to be.

Felicity around those types of guys? It didn’t sit well.

Besides, she didn’t like those kinds of parties, not as far as he could tell from the little she’d told him about her college days. He wouldn’t want her feeling obligated to go and then being uncomfortable there. He’d have to get Tommy to lay off pressuring her to attend. She was his partner after all, and partners looked out for one another.

He vaguely noted Tommy talking in the background, going on and on about the party and who was coming, and what costumes he had picked out for the two of them. Oliver nodded along dutifully, making vague noises of agreement when suddenly he was jolted out of his reverie by something Tommy said.

“Repeat that please.”

Tommy’s grin only grew wider as he cocked a single dark eyebrow at his broody friend.

“Which part? The bit about our fabulous costumes or about how your Miss Smoak is apparently hoarding an entire _closet_ full of sexy costumes designed specifically to fit and flatter her amazing body?”

Oliver ran a hand over his face in exasperation and fixed his friend with a look that would have given the hardest criminal pause.

“Stupid question. Of course, you want to know about the last bit.” Tommy leaned forward enthusiastically until he registered Oliver’s expression, replayed the last few words he’d said, and held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Not that I’ve noticed her body. At all.”

He cleared his throat and rallied before Oliver did something like pull a mini arrow out of a secret pocket in his suit and stab him with it.

“Seriously buddy, you see that box out there?” Tommy not-so-subtlety jerked a thumb behind him in the general direction of Felicity’s desk. “You’ll never guess what’s in it. Well, I guess you _could_ guess, and probably will _have_ to guess, as she refuses to model it for me, but hey, maybe she’ll model it for you if you ask in that growly voice of yours!”

“Tommy,” Oliver halted him mid-ramble. God, Tommy really was spending more time around Felicity than he had realized. Her penchant for rambling seemed to be contagious.

“Yes! That’s the voice! Now go use it to get her to open that box!”

He felt the beginnings of a massive headache threatening. He really needed to get some rest. Or go pummel something.  He pinched the bridge of his nose while Tommy just continued to talk about costumes and showgirls and Felicity. Not a combination of topics Oliver needed to dwell on first thing Monday morning.

Or anytime.

For his sanity.

The little he had left anyway.  

This wasn’t helping his plan to keep his thoughts professional.

He scrubbed a hand over his face before turning his attention to some of the papers on his desk. “Tommy, whatever is in the box is none of my business. Or yours. And I really don’t have time to dwell on it as this report from Applied Sciences needs my review, so if you don’t mind...”

He scanned the pages of the document, trying to look like he gave a damn about what was written on it and hoping Tommy would take the hint, all the while not actually reading a single word because he was thinking about that _damn box_.

The papers were plucked from his hands and dropped to the side with a quiet _plunk_. How the hell hadn’t he noticed Tommy moving?

So much for his fabled situational awareness.

“I’d believe that if (A), I didn’t know you have Felicity review all the Applied Sciences proposals and then brief you since they make _no_ sense to you whatsoever, and (B) this were actually an Applied Sciences report and not a take-out menu from Felicity’s favorite Chinese place in the Glades.”

Oliver glanced at the papers he had grabbed to find they were, in fact, pages of the take-out menu from Felicity’s go-to, late night dinner spot.

_Shit._

He looked up to find Tommy smirking knowingly.

There was really no way to explain this one away.

“You seem a bit distracted there, buddy. Something on your mind? Anything you want to talk about?” Tommy cocked his head to the side before learning forward to stage whisper, “Or are you really having the tech heads come up with ways to weaponize dumplings?”

He was barely managing to keep his laughter in check and Oliver would have smacked him upside the head if they were still teenagers. God, all this morning needed to get any worse was for Thea to join the conversation.

He was an adult. He could handle this _like an adult._

By totally ignoring his friend.

“It was a long night and I have a lot on my plate right now, so if you don’t mind…” Oliver ground out.

“Ah, I see, I see” Tommy brushed at a piece of lint on his coat sleeve with exaggerated nonchalance. “Makes perfect sense. Long nights and juggling multiple things at once… clearly not something you’re used to at _all_ ,” Tommy offered.

Sympathetically, or course.

Oliver reached for his coffee and took a sip, refusing to engage in the conversation any further.

“Why don’t you tell the lovely Miss Smoak that you need some rest and relaxation. I’m sure she could come up with some ways to … relieve your stress. She is a genius, after all. Bet she’d come up with some truly creative ideas. And she’s so skilled with her hands.”

Oliver choked on his coffee.

Tommy reached into his breast pocket and handed Oliver a handkerchief.

“Seems you and Miss Smoak both have problems swallowing. You should work on that, together.”

Oliver just stared at his friend, speechless; a “what the fuck?” expression firmly in place.

“You’re right, probably not the right time, or place. Well, the place is actually kind of perfect,” he trailed off as he rapped his knuckles against Oliver’s desk for emphasis. “Nice sturdy desk. Plenty of room to practice… stuff.”

Oliver’s expression could only be described as murderous as he pushed back from his desk and stood up.

Tommy smiled broadly as he backed away. A good wingman knew when to push and when to retreat. And Tommy was an excellent wingman, which meant he had time for a closing gamble before considering this morning a solid success.

“I’ll just get out of your hair now _._ I was going to see if you wanted to grab lunch later, but, seeing as how you’re so overwhelmed with _work_ , I’ll just invite the lovely Miss Smoak.”

With a cheerful clap of his hands, Tommy was out the door and headed towards Felicity’s desk with a decided hop in his step before Oliver could utter a single word.

He was left to watch with growing frustration as Felicity nodded in laughter at whatever Tommy was saying as he pointed at his watch and winked.

Christ, she must have agreed to grab lunch with him.

 _How was it only 9:45 in the morning?_ He’d been on week-long assignments for ARGUS that felt like they passed more quickly than this. 

By the time Tommy finally left, Oliver was left sitting at his desk with his head in his hands, invitation glittering away just in his peripheral, while terribly inappropriate thoughts about what could be in that damn box of Felicity’s filled his head.

His headache was reaching epic proportions.

The sound of heels clicking on the floor caught his attention. Looking up, he was met with a breathtaking view of his friend and partner walking towards him, sure and steady in those damn red heels that taunted him like a flag before a bull, papers in hand, body showcased in a soft white dress that hugged all her curves. The small arrow necklace twinkling in the morning sunlight streaming through the windows. 

All the blood in his body began coursing south. Again.

That necklace was going to be the death of him. She was wearing his symbol. _His._ He couldn’t stop the wave of primal pleasure that swept through him at the sight of it. He wanted to see her wearing that necklace and nothing else. Not a damn thing.

Fuck.

_Fuck._

Where the hell had that thought come from? They were friends. _Just friends._

These were not professional thoughts.

He blamed this entirely on Tommy.

“Here’re the notes for your meeting with our London division.” She leaned over his desk to place the papers in front of him and the scent of sun and summer washed over him like a warm breeze as her hair swung forward.

_Friends. Just friends._

_Keep it professional._

He repeated it like a mantra in his head.

If he reminded himself often enough, it would work. It had to. 

The silence stretched between them, the atmosphere still weirdly charged from their exchange earlier.

She leaned forward again, this time bracing her hands on the desk. Oliver’s eyes tracked the movement and noted her cheerful, red nails against her soft creamy skin. Her warm, creamy skin against the cold, sleek surface of his desk. Tommy’s words about practicing things on the desk ran through his mind and he felt himself harden immediately.

He was officially not getting any work done at this desk today. Or possibly ever again. Time to move to the conference room. Then she’d be out of his direct line of sight.

But something in him protested that idea. Immediately. Vehemently.

He could protect her better if he could see her. Clearly. And they already been attacked once here in the office. He owed it to her to keep her safe.  

“Oliver?” her voice was raised in question.

Her blue eyes fixed on him appraisingly as he looked up, and Oliver tried desperately not to squirm under her assessing gaze. He had a feeling that wasn’t the first time she had said his name while his mind had wandered.

“Tommy said you seemed stressed, and I think he’s right. You look even more tense than usual, and a bit flushed.” She reached forward like she was going to brush her hand against his forehead to check for a fever and he found himself leaning towards her to meet her halfway before they both abruptly stopped. She pulled her hand back and reached to adjust her glasses. “You don’t have anything pressing this morning so why don’t we lie down. I mean you – _you_ – why don’t _you_ lie down. To rest. Which you don’t need me to do with you. Clearly. Because that would be …. You know what. Why don’t you just lie down on the couch and I’ll go grab something for your headache.”

He couldn’t help but stare at her ass showcased in the soft white fabric of her dress as she walked away. At the long, toned line of her legs.

 _Christ_ , this was going to be a long day.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Day from Hell has turned into the Week from Hell while Oliver and Felicity seem to walk on eggshells around each other. Tommy plots, Thea makes an appearance, and we finally find out about one of the costumes in Felicity's closet!
> 
> Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay in posting this chapter - the holiday threw a wrench in my schedule. Happily, Chapter 4 is complete and I'll post it in a few days! I'd love to hear if anyone has ideas about what costumes Donna has sent over the past few years :)

Friday. 9:00 a.m.

The week from hell was nearly over.

If he could get through the next few hours without any major disasters, he’d count it as a success.

Oliver sighed as he scrubbed a hand over his head. He honestly couldn’t remember a week that had felt this interminably long since he’d returned from the island.

It wasn’t the combined workload of two jobs, or his family drama, or even the fact that he’d had to deal with Isabel Rochev nearly every single day this week, it was that he’d felt _off_ the entire time.

And his rock-solid plan to keep his distance from Felicity, to keep his thoughts professional? It had failed.

Miserably.

He was man enough to admit it.

It had lasted all of 48 hours, but by Tuesday night he’d had enough. Or rather – Tommy had had enough.   

 

 <<<<<< _Tuesday night: Verdant_ >>>>>>

_The door to the Lair shut soundly behind him as Oliver leaned against it, letting the beat of the club’s music wash over him._

_He tried to let the tension in his neck and shoulders dissipate, to no avail._

_It had been a successful night on the streets. The type of night they’d desperately needed. He and Digg, with the help of Felicity’s intel, had finally been able to track down and stop a new drug dealer who had been pushing drugs on middle-school kids attending afterschool programs in the Glades. Those programs were supposed to be a safe-haven – a place where parents could trust that their kids were safe for a few extra hours after school each day. Felicity had spent basically all of Monday night in the Lair tracking down every lead they had to find the dealer and the pushers, and it had paid off._

_While he was incredibly grateful for her efforts, it meant he’d been alone with her in the Lair for_ hours _, unwilling to leave her alone and head home knowing she would either fall asleep at her computers, or walk to her car unescorted in the dead of night. While crime had been down in the Glades as of late, he wasn’t willing to risk her safety. Ever._

_It had been a special kind of torture for him – spending all that time alone with her in an environment she’d designed and built for him. A place, if he were being honest, that was as much her home as his._

_Everywhere he turned, he saw evidence of Felicity. Her coconut shampoo and conditioner in the shower; her bright pink cardigan casually thrown over the back of the couch she’d insisted they purchase (“_ You can’t nap on the med table Oliver. It’s not only uncomfortable – it’s all kinds of creepy!” _; the small, brightly colored 7lb weights she kept in the training area and never used; the coffee mug she’d bought for him (_ “Come on Oliver! It’s perfect! Look – it has a picture of Robin Hood and Little John on it!” _)_

_But tonight, she had taken off as soon as he and Digg had returned safely, claiming she was too tired to do anything other than go home and take a long, hot bath._

_Which was a mental picture he definitely did not need._

_Oliver decided to head up to the bar and see Thea for a few minutes before heading home, only to stop dead in his tracks and curse the universe, because Felicity was at the bar._

_With Tommy and Thea._

_Laughing._

_Happy._

_Not at all the quiet ball of stress he’d seen the past two days. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d heard her babble or seen her smile this week. Well, smile at him. She seemed to have no problem smiling around Tommy._

_And then it came to him and his gut twisted. She’d babbled and smiled at him Monday morning when he’d brought her a coffee. But ever since he’d put his stupid plan into place, she’d closed herself off from him more and more each passing moment._

_It was what he wanted. His plan was working._

_He just hadn’t counted on feeling like this. Feeling so… off... about the results. The distance he forced between them felt like an open wound. And it had only been 48 hours. He honestly didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up._

_Tommy’s laughter rang out even over the sound of the music and Oliver watched as he raised his arms in victory before leaning forward, offering his cheek to Felicity for a kiss._

_Something dangerous rose inside of him swift and fierce._

_Shit.  This shouldn’t matter to him. He had spent the last two days proving to himself that he didn’t want Felicity like that. And Tommy was so clearly just joking around. But Oliver didn’t like it. And couldn’t force the emotion down._

_He thought about turning around, but really – he should be able to face one tiny blonde without losing his self-control. Right?_

_He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scene as Felicity leaned forward and placed a kiss on Tommy’s cheek with great flourish. Oliver took an involuntary step forward, his fists clenched so tightly his nails were cutting into his palms. Felicity sat back, and her skirt – the tight, dark green skirt that had taunted him all fucking day – the skirt that framed her curves and hugged her ass in ways Oliver had dreamed of doing in the quiet dark of sleep – had ridden up, exposing a long expanse of creamy, toned skin as she sat perched on the bar stool._

_Jesus. Now he was jealous of a fucking skirt._

_He shook himself._

_He could handle this._

_Felicity shifted on the stool and the skirt rode up just a fraction more._

_Nope. Not happening. He needed to leave. He’d rather face down a band of trained mercenaries._

_Just as he was about to flee, Tommy caught sight of him and waved him over. When Thea and Felicity turned to see who had caught Tommy’s eye, Felicity’s smile fell slightly and Oliver felt a sudden tightening in his gut._

_He wove his way through the crowd, pausing only when one particularly forward brunette stopped him in his tracks by stepping into his personal space and running her hands up his chest and shoulders. The dress barely contained her cleavage and the scent of expensive perfume was cloying and overwhelming._

_God, this was why he hated stopping by the club. He counted to ten in his head, planning a way to extricate himself without offending the woman when she stepped even closer, rubbing herself fully against him._

_He looked up to find Felicity watching them with an unreadable expression on her face._

_Flashing the woman wrapped around him his trademark playboy smile, he untangled her arms from his neck and stepped around her, sending her on her way with the promise of a bottle of champagne for her and her friends. Maybe he’d even make Tommy bring it over there as payback for that kiss._

_When he finally reached the bar, he was careful to maintain a minimal safe distance from Felicity. He’d been doing so ever since Monday morning and it seemed to be working. He hadn’t touched her or made any flirtatious comments. It had made their interactions awkward and stilted, but it was best just to stick with the plan. Best for him and best for Felicity._

_“Hey big brother.” Thea reached behind the bar to grab a bottle of top shelf scotch Oliver kept on hand just for sharing with Tommy and Digg. “I didn’t know you were stopping by the club tonight. I’m a bit surprised given how Tommy told me you’ve been having a rough week. That you’ve been … tense.”_

_Oliver tensed, not liking the teasing tone of Thea’s voice, nor the glint in her eye as she glanced between him and Felicity._

_He shifted his gaze to Tommy only to find his friend staring back at him with a curious challenge in his eyes. Oliver’s eyes narrowed in on the small bit of bright pink lipstick on his cheek and a knowing smirk spread across Tommy’s face as he raised his glass in salute before taking a sip. Oliver was going to kill him. It was only a matter of time the way this week was going._

_And Felicity was eyeing them all over the rim of her wine glass, a questioning look in her eye, clearly uncomfortable as she tried to figure out what the hell the unspoken subtext was._

_Well, welcome to the club. She wasn’t the only one uncomfortable with this entire exchange._

_“Come join us for a drink! We need to celebrate. I have just succeeded in figuring out_ one _of the costumes in Miss Smoak’s Closet of Dreams. Well – my dreams anyhow.” He winked at Felicity and she rolled her eyes while Thea whacked him upside the head. “And I got a kiss on the cheek as reward for my brilliance. She should know better than to have challenge me. You care to make a guess and get a prize?”_

_Oliver grabbed the scotch Thea had poured for him and glared at Tommy._

_“No guessing today. Hmmm, I guess I could just tell you. Wanna know what it is?”_

_Jesus._

No.

_There was not a single thing on the planet Oliver wanted to hear less right now that what the hell was in that damn closet._

_Because then he’d have concrete knowledge to fuel his fantasies._

_“Not interested.” It came out harsher than he’d intended and he saw Felicity cringe and flush. It didn’t escape anyone’s notice._

_Thea’s expression was incredulous to say the least. Tommy’s was borderline murderous._

_“I just meant that I don’t need to know what Felicity keeps in her… closet …” he trailed off as Felicity slid from her perch on the barstool._

_His stomach plummeted._

_“Thanks for the wine Thea. I definitely needed it after the way this week has gone, but I should head out.” Her voice was no longer light with the humor he’d heard earlier._

_“Anytime Felicity – I owe you for fixing the security cameras so quickly, and we are continuing this conversation when I’m not swamped with work!” Thea eyed her brother before leaning forward conspiratorially. “Besides, maybe I’ll borrow one of those costumes for the party – or better yet,_ after _the party. Bet Roy would love it.”_

_“THEA!” Two outraged male voices rang out._

_Evidently Oliver and Tommy could still agree on something._

_Felicity flashed a small smile at Thea’s antics. “Absolutely. It’s not like I’m using them.”_

_“You will be. This Friday. When you come to the party.” Tommy’s tone was confident._

_She chanced a look at Oliver – her expression closed off. He hated that. Hated not knowing what she was thinking._

_“Let me know if you want to come by and take one – you can even keep it. Though you may have to tailor it a bit,” Felicity said wryly, turning back to Thea and gesturing to her pixie-like figure._

_Oliver’s eyes immediately shifted to Felicity’s heart-stopping curves and he took another sip of scotch to stop the growl he felt rising in his throat when he saw Tommy’s gaze linger on her tight skirt as well._

_“Ha – fair point, but Raisa can help me alter it. She’s amazing at sewing,” Thea laughed._

_Tommy was still staring at Felicity’s ass._

_Oliver raised his glass to take yet another sip of scotch before he did something rash, like punch his best friend, only to find he’d already finished it, and muttered a curse. Felicity looked up and their eyes locked. For the first time in days._

_Felicity held his gaze for a moment longer before turning away._

_“Perfect. Just give me a call.” She turned to Tommy with a small smile, “And I’ll admit you figured out_ one _Tommy – but it was a classic costume. You were bound to guess it eventually. When my mom sent it, she hadn’t yet realized that I hate clichés. I can guarantee you won’t guess any of the others.”_

_Tommy chuckled. “Doesn’t make it any less hot.”_

_“Clichéd, Tommy. Clichéd.”_

_“H.O.T.” he countered._

_She reached for her coat. “You’re still never winning the main bet.”_

_“Miss Smoak, you underestimate my ability to imagine all manner of naughty things.”_

_Thea nodded knowingly as Oliver just continued to stand there, silent._

_“And I fully intend to collect my prize when I win.” Tommy imbued that comment with as much innuendo as possible while keeping an eye on his brooding friend. He was daring, not dumb._

_Oliver was torn between hitting Tommy, and stepping between him and Felicity and explaining that he wouldn’t be collecting anything from her, bets be damned. But, the problem was solved for him when Felicity took a step towards him and raised her hand as if to touch his arm in passing as she left.  A simple goodnight between friends, something she’d done countless times at QC and in the Lair._

_And he recoiled. Stepped backwards._

_Felicity froze and the expression that crossed her face…. Fuck. Oliver wanted to wind back time. Change what he’d just done. Anything to get her to stop looking at him like that._

_But Felicity was gone. Weaving her way through the crowd. Away from him. Her hand cradled protectively against her chest._

_“I’m never going to be an auntie,” Thea muttered in passing as she stepped past him to follow Felicity. “I’m going to make sure one of the bouncers walks her to her car.”_

_Oliver stood there silently, not wanting to even look at Tommy because he could only guess what he’d have to say at this point. And Oliver deserved all of it. Every single word of censure._

_A full glass of scotch appeared in his line of vision._

_“I don’t know what’s been up with you these past few days, but you need to get your head out of your ass. Regardless of whatever else she is to you, she’s your friend, and she’s hurt and confused. You’re acting like a complete ass around her. Treating her like she has the plague. She thinks she’s doing something to upset you or stress you out, that you don’t want her around anymore. And I couldn’t even tell her she was wrong, because that would be a blatant lie. You and I both know damn well what has you all tense and cranky these days._ Her _. And your complete inability to admit how you really feel.” All traces of humor were gone from Tommy’s voice._

_Oliver accepted the scotch and took a sip. “It’s better this way.”_

_Tommy scoffed, “Keep telling yourself that buddy. But let me make one thing abundantly clear since you seem to have a hard time seeing what’s right in front of you. Felicity Smoak is … God, I don’t even have the words. She’s one of a kind. That brilliant, beautiful, quirky woman knows every side of you and hasn’t run from you_ once _. If you don’t make a move, someone else will. Someday – likely very soon – some guy is going to come into her life and sweep her off her well-heeled feet. Away from you.” He paused and ran a hand through his hair. “Hell, maybe it will even be me. And_ then… _then you won’t be able to do a damn thing about it.”_

_Oliver pushed the scotch away. He felt ill._

_Tommy stood there in silence for a few moments, letting his words sink in, before he leaned across the bar, resting on his forearms. When he spoke again, his tone was calmer. “Ask yourself why you’re terrified of even the most innocent of touches from Felicity when that hot brunette who draped herself all over you earlier didn’t even phase you.”_

_Oliver didn’t need to ask himself that question. He already knew the answer. Still, he tried to deflect. “I’m not terr –“_

_“It’s because she’s not a tiny blond genius who owns your ass,” Tommy cut him off._

_Oliver’s shoulders dropped in defeat._

_“Exactly. Now, I expect this ridiculous behavior of yours to end. Now. And on an awesome note, I figured out your girl’s costume. Well, one of them anyway,” Tommy sounded downright gleeful. How he could change gears so fast, Oliver had no idea._

_“Tommy, just don’t, please, I can’t…”_

_“Naughty doctor!” Tommy squealed._

_The high-pitched, girlish sound startled them both and Oliver couldn’t help but stare in amused surprise as Tommy cleared his throat in a manly manner before continuing._

_“As I was saying, naughty doctor. A classic. You play your cards right and maybe she’ll wear it next time she needs to patch you up. Bet she’s great at playing doctor.” Tommy rubbed his hands together diabolically, “I’m calling her Doctor Smoak from now on.”_

_Oliver put his head down on the bar and groaned._

_ <<<<<<   >>>>>> _

 

Oliver shook himself from the memory.

He’d spent the first 48 hours of this week miserable as hell because, as it turned out, keeping his distance from Felicity was… unpleasant. And Tommy was right; he’d been hurting Felicity with this nonsense. It wasn’t her fault he couldn’t keep his thoughts platonic.

Now it was Friday morning. And how had he spent the last 48 hours? Well, he’d spent them burning with desire for his friend. _His friend._

Because once he took Tommy’s words to heart, once he realized his plan had failed miserably, he hadn’t just gone back to his old predicament of noticing Felicity was attractive and having the occasional _thought_ about her. No, his brain and his dick hadn’t gotten the damn memo about going back to normal because it seemed that once he scrapped his plan he now needed to touch her as often as possible. Innocent little touches that affected him more than any intimate contact with any woman he’d ever been with. Touching her was like a drug.

A hand on her elbow.

A small shoulder squeeze in the Lair.

Guiding her in and out of a room with his hand at the small of her back.

He didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

And he was sure Felicity had noticed. Hell, she must think he was insane at this point. He’d gone from normal, to distant and cold, to definitely- _not_ -normal in the span of a few days.

Tommy had clearly noticed if his knowing smirk was any indication. He also seemed to take Oliver’s new behavior as permission to ratchet up his own flirting just to piss him off. Or he had a death wish. Oliver honestly wasn’t sure, but he knew he didn’t like it.

Last night had nearly been the breaking point. When he’d returned from patrol, Oliver had found Tommy down in the Lair giving Felicity a God-damned shoulder rub.

Tommy had looked up to find Oliver gripping his bow tight enough to break it, with a look in his eyes that really should have given him pause. But he was Tommy Merlyn, wingman extraordinaire, so… no. Sometimes you had to take risks to reap rewards. So he simply cocked an eyebrow in challenge before leaning down to stage whisper to Felicity, all the while keeping eye contact with Oliver, “Told you I have magic hands. Anywhere else you need me to rub?” Felicity flushed red and smacked his hands away with a reprimanding look on her face.

“Behave.” She looked at him sternly over the rim of her glasses.

“Then don’t look at me like that,” Tommy quipped.

She ignored him and turned back to her computers.

“Guess that’s a no then. Try not to spend so much time in front of those computers of yours,” Tommy turned to face Oliver. “How about you Oliver, anything you need … rubbed? I have to head upstairs, but I’m sure Doctor Smoak would be happy to check you out.”

Two outraged noises met that question, so Tommy considered his work nearly complete and sauntered away, a satisfied smile on his face.

“Your patient looks stressed Doctor Smoak. Dare I say even in pain? If all else fails, just kiss it and make it better. Best medicine ever.” Tommy avoided Oliver’s bow with a graceful skip as it swung at his head and simply continued towards the stairs.

Silence hung heavy in the air with Tommy’s departure. The hum from Felicity’s computers and the muted beat of music from the club the only noise cutting the silence. Felicity finally spun in her chair and looked Oliver over for injuries as she always did when he returned from patrol. But there was an edge of uncertainty to her expression that killed him.

Jesus, he’d been such an idiot with that stupid plan of his. She was still walking on eggshells around him even though he’d tried to fix things, to get them back to normal.

He smiled at her, a quiet smile he knew was for her and her alone, and took a step closer. “Ignore him, I’m perfectly fine. But are you? In pain, that is…?”

She looked confused for a moment before shaking her head and huffing a small laugh, craning her head back and forth, stretching her neck muscles. “Nothing serious, just the usual stuff from sitting hunched over a keyboard for hours on end. Tommy really did help.”

Oliver tamped down the upset he felt hearing that. Before he could think it through, he was stepping into her personal space and rubbing his fingers over the juncture between her neck and shoulder, applying the slightest pressure. Her breath hitched.

“If it happens again, you can always ask…” he struggled with his words. “It’s just… I can help.”

She flushed, and he felt the small shiver that ran through her. He cursed himself as desire coursed through his body before he stepped past her to put his bow away.

Suffice it to say, Oliver’s dreams that night hadn’t been platonic. At all. And they didn’t even feature costumes. Just Felicity. In the Lair. At her desk.

He was doomed.

But now it was Friday and the weekend was looming. Oliver would have two solid days away from her. He could center himself. Regroup. Figure out what the hell he needed to do to stop this insane response he seemed to have to her before he ruined their friendship beyond repair.

He just had to make it to 5pm.

Because Oliver had convinced Tommy that he was not attending the damn Halloween party.

It was easier now that Tommy knew his secret. He hadn’t even had to come up with some lame excuse. He just said he was busy with Arrow business and left it at that. Tommy wasn’t pushing him about it, which surprised him, if he were being honest, because Tommy Merlyn never gave up this easily. Oliver had expected a full court press. Endless reasons why he needed to attend.

_Put himself out there._

_Return to the “world of the living”._

But, so far, Tommy had accepted Oliver’s excuse with nary a word in protest, which would normally have raised warning flags, but Oliver had too much on his mind to deal with it right now. Because while Tommy may have decided not to pressure him to attend, he was still waging his charm offensive to convince _Felicity_ to attend the damn party.

In fact, Tommy was positive he would get her to go. In costume. 

The sudden sound of laughter jarred Oliver out of his thoughts. He looked up to once again find Tommy perched on the corner of Felicity’s desk. Likely continuing his efforts to guess what naughty costumes she was hoarding in that damn closet of hers, and to convince her to attend the party.

And if Tommy succeeded? If Felicity agreed to go?

Christ; he’d have to go too.

To keep an eye on her. It’s what friends- teammates – did. That party was going to be filled with drunk men looking for an easy mark.

It had nothing, _nothing_ , to do with the idea of her in a skimpy, suggestive costume designed by a Vegas professional (and fuck if his mind wasn’t supplying him with a never-ending list of what that costume could be).

Tommy had been texting him daily, often multiple times a day, with guesses as to what costume had been in the box. As if Oliver needed ideas to add to his collection of Felicity-related fantasies. But thanks to Tommy and his endless wonder at Felicity apparently owning an entire closet full of professionally designed naughty costumes, Oliver had succeeded in doing absolutely nothing this week.

 _Nothing_.

Because his mind had been otherwise occupied.

Because _now_ his fantasies of Felicity weren’t relegated to his subconscious betraying him while he slept, providing him with images of something he could never let himself have, but allowing him a few hours to imagine that he could. That he _did_.

No. Now his fantasies were invading his waking hours and involved the very real reality of Felicity in skimpy clothes that were vastly different from her normal attire, which was distracting enough as far as he was concerned. To further complicate matters, those fantasies were now marred by the looming reality of other men around her, seeing her in said skimpy clothing.

 _That_ did not sit well.

_At all._

And Tommy was adamant that he’d convince Felicity to attend the party. Constant updates on his progress convincing her to attend were another theme of his never-ending text messages. And if there was one thing Oliver knew, it was that it was impossible to resist Tommy Merlyn when he set his mind to something, even for someone as strong-willed as Felicity Smoak. Which meant there was a good chance she would be attending the party. That she’d be out in public at a Tommy Merlyn party in a costume that was, as Tommy had so eloquently put it earlier in the week, “specifically designed to be sexy and ensnare men.”

Tommy had reminded him of that little gem multiple times.

Like Felicity needed a sexy costume to get men to notice her. _He_ noticed her every moment of every day, regardless of what she wore or how hard he tried not to.

Oliver pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and heaved a sigh. He was a mess. A literal mess. He couldn’t remember ever feeling like this in his life.

He looked up to see Tommy was still perched on the edge of Felicity’s desk. Based on the epic eye roll she leveled him with, Tommy had made yet another outrageous guess about what had been in the box. He tried to catch Tommy’s eye and wave him over, but furrowed his brow in confusion as he watched Tommy raise his fist in the air in victory.

What the hell was that all about? Had he actually figured it out?

Oliver didn’t know if he could handle knowing for sure what was in that box. _Christ._ This week needed to end.

But, alas, he found his week ending much as it had begun, with Tommy Merlyn sitting on the couch in his office, shit-eating grin firmly in place.

The one difference? The one _pivotal_ difference? That grin was now due to the fact that Tommy had evidently finally worn Felicity down and gotten her to agree to attend the party.

“I know you won’t be coming to the party, so I just wanted to tell you not to worry, I’ll stick to the lovely Doctor Smoak like glue. Wouldn’t want her subjected to an endless stream of men hitting on her – which is bound to happen when she shows up in her costume – whatever it may be. Unless, that is, she finds someone that strikes her fancy, in which case I guess I’ll play wingman. You know how good I am at that! She deserves some fun, don’t you think?”

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath while glaring at Tommy’s perfectly happy expression.

“What was that?” Tommy tilted his head innocently.

Oliver’s brows drew together further.

Tommy’s smile grew as he cocked an inquisitive eyebrow.

“I didn’t catch what you said. Was it that your schedule miraculously cleared up and you’ll be attending the party after all?”

Oliver leaned forward and held his head in his hands.

“Or was it that you’re finally going to stop feeding me that bullshit line about how you two are _just friends_ , and admit that the idea of Felicity with another man drives you insane and makes you want to start bashing heads in because you’re totally in love with her?”

_Fuck._

He had been played. Well and good.

He should have known better than to underestimate Tommy Merlyn.

And now he needed a costume. Other than his real one.

Or maybe not – Felicity did seem to _love_ his Arrow gear. He could be accused of many things, but being unobservant wasn’t one of them. And his Arrow costume gave him an excuse to shoot anyone who touched her. And to stay in the shadows all night. A slow smile spread across his face at the idea.

“Ya, nope buddy. You can’t wear it. I see what you’re thinking.” Tommy’s voice cut into Oliver’s thoughts and he couldn’t control the look of surprise that crossed his face at Tommy knowing what he was thinking. What the hell happened to his unreadable vigilante face?

“Just stop right there. I’ve know you since you were practically in diapers, so just don’t.” Tommy brushed a piece of lint off his knee. “As happy as I am to see that you will be gracing us with your presence tonight, you’ll be wearing something else or I’ll make it my personal mission to woo naughty Doctor Smoak with my best lines. Ones I’ve been saving for a special occasion.”

“Stop calling her that. And why do I have to wear a costume at a–”

“Don’t worry though,” Tommy waggled his eyebrows, cutting him off.

Shit. Oliver knew that look.

“I’ve already got costumes for both of us!”

He was officially screwed.

“Meet me at the club by 9. I’ll leave it upstairs in the office for you. And be ready to woo your beautiful, evil genius!”

Oliver honest to God groaned.

“I’m not going to woo---”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there to help! And for the love of God, stop lying to yourself. It’s just making the both of you miserable.” Tommy was out the door was a determined glint in his eye that Oliver had seen too many times in his life to know it led anywhere good.

He looked up and saw Felicity typing away at her desk with one hand while adjusting her glasses with the other. He just stared. He couldn’t stop. She looked up at him and smiled before turning back to her work.

He thought about what Tommy had said. About everything Tommy had been saying for months. About how this whole damn week had played out. God – about every single interaction he’d ever had with Felicity Smoak.

And something inside him began to shift and settle into place. Now he just needed to decide what to do about it.


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An exhausted and emotionally confused Felicity finally opens the box. A nervous yet adorable Oliver hands out a treat. It's Friday night.... let the party begin!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! This chapter turned to be really long, so I've split it into two, meaning I've increased the chapter total to 6. Hope that's okay with everyone :) We finally find out what Donna put in the box - I know it'll be cliche to some and fun for others, but it works in the context of this story, so let's go with it and have some fun! The party starts here and will continue through Chapter 5.

_Previously in It Started on a Monday…_

_He thought about what Tommy had said. About everything Tommy had been saying for months. About how this whole damn week had played out. God – about every single interaction he’d ever had with Felicity Smoak._

_And something inside him began to shift and settle into place. Now he just needed to decide what to do about it._

 

The week had passed in a blur of department reviews, investor meetings, and criminals seemingly intent on committing as many felonies as possible before Halloween.

Felicity sighed; guess even bad guys wanted the weekend off for the holiday.

By Wednesday, she was exhausted, yet had managed to resist Tommy’s persistent pleas that she attend his Halloween party.

By Thursday, he’d worn her down enough that she was honestly considering it.

By Friday, she’d given in and agreed that she’d stop by, at least for a quick drink. It was easier to give in than to keep fighting him. He was more persistent than she’d given him credit for.

To make matters worse, she felt worn out. _Off_. Not like her usual optimistic self. She’d spent nearly a full week being treated like crap by Isabel Rochev while simultaneously having to sit idly by and watch the she-devil try to sink her claws into Oliver and the company. While she could do her best to shield him professionally, she had no right to interfere in his personal life. He didn’t seem to reciprocate Isabel’s advances, but he wasn’t shutting her down either. A fact which Felicity tried desperately to rationalize. Perhaps he just didn’t want to offend her and incite even more of her animosity. Though that didn’t make it any easier to watch.

She had been privy to a long line of women throwing themselves at Oliver, and had come to terms with it for the most part, but something about Isabel set her teeth on edge.

The woman was evil. Pure and simple.

Felicity had no idea what she had done to personally incur her wrath, but somewhere along the way she must have kicked a puppy or stepped on a bug that was the last of its species, because bad karma seemed to be the only plausible explanation.

Making Felicity feel like cheap trash seemed to be part of Isabel’s job description.

Honestly, there were days she was tempted to hack into her personnel file just to confirm that her contract did indeed list her duties as: (1) take over Queen Consolidated, (2) seduce Oliver, and (3) make Felicity feel like worthless trash.

And not necessarily in that order.

Isabel behaved like she was a threat to those goals by the sheer fact that she was blonde and Oliver’s EA, and that was just laughable. Isabel had access to Felicity’s personnel file, she had to know that she was one of the smartest people in the building and had spent years working hard to actually _help_ the company. No matter what the gossips around the office said, Isabel had to see that she and Oliver were purely professional partners.

That was all.

Oliver had made that painfully clear with his behavior this week.

Felicity wasn’t a tall, leggy brunette, and anyone with two brain cells to rub together knew that was his type. Laurel, Helena, McKenna… the list went on and on and on… all tall, leggy brunettes who liked to be in charge. Who demanded the attention of everyone in a room.

But, it clearly didn’t stop Isabel from belittling Felicity at every turn in front of other department heads and employees at QC, and every investor who showed up for a meeting. And given Felicity was smarter than all of those people combined, it irked her. If the thought of Isabel flirting with Oliver bothered Felicity on an entirely different level, well that was just because Oliver was her friend and she didn’t want that she-devil anywhere near him. He deserved better. 

A small voice in the back of her head reminded her that Isabel was also a tall, leggy brunette who liked to be in charge. And God knew Oliver seemed incapable of avoiding unhealthy relationships. Isabel, in that sense, was the perfect candidate for him.

She quelled the bile rising in her throat, desperately pushed the thought aside and focused on more pressing matters, like the whirlwind of behavior from Oliver this week. While he was generally hard to get a read on, Felicity like to think she’d become somewhat proficient at it. She liked to think that she knew him, perhaps better than anyone at this point. But she couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on this week. She just knew it had left her reeling.

He’d gone from a sweet gesture and something that approached flirting on Monday morning, to giving her the complete cold shoulder for two days. And then, after that disastrous encounter at Verdant on Tuesday night, he’d shifted his behavior again. Not only was he back to speaking to her and smiling at her, he’d taken to squeezing her shoulder in passing, or escorting her in and out of rooms with a hand at the small of her back. And, most recently, God help her, assisting her with her coat, going so far as to sweep her hair out of the way.

She could still feel the brush of his knuckles across her neck from yesterday.

It had only been a couple of days of this new, more tactile Oliver and she was already a quivering, hot mess. Which frustrated her to no end. On multiple levels.

Since she and Dig had dragged him back from the island, he’d become increasingly more tactile. It was a good thing; it meant he was comfortable around her and wasn’t shying away from all human touch like he had when she’d first met him. It was healthy. _Really healthy._ But he was slowly killing her with these new types of touches and he had no idea. No idea at all. She went to bed swearing she could still feel the heat from his touch.

And, it was probably an afterthought for him. Something he did without realizing it.  At best, a friend just being friendly. At worst, a gesture born out of pity and meant to comfort her because he’d overheard some of Isabel’s more brutal insults this week, or felt sorry for being such as ass for two solid days. 

Regardless, the whole situation was frying her already frayed nerves.

Which brought her to the present.

5pm. Friday.

_She. Was. Done_.

Done with the day.

Done with _The Week from Hell_.

She wanted nothing more than to go home, throw on some comfy pajamas and curl up with a glass of red wine while waiting for cute kids in cute costumes to ring her bell. She handed out candy every year. It gave her a legitimate excuse to buy fifteen pounds of it and pretend she was giving it _all_ away and not buying most of it for herself.

She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, pushing her glasses up to pinch the bridge of her nose.  

“You should head out, it’s been a long week.”

She looked up to find Oliver leaning against the door frame of his office, hands casually in his pockets, watching her with a soft expression on his face. God, even tired and disheveled he look amazing. She immediately remembered the feel of his hand on her neck and felt heat rush to her core. Closing her eyes for a moment, she willed the feeling away. She needed rest and space to rebuild her walls. To remind herself of where they stood. Of who she was to him. His Girl Wednesday and nothing more.

“Ya, it has been,” she agreed quietly.

“Take the night off – I already told Digg to do so. Halloween is usually quiet, seems the bad guys like to take this particular night off.”

“And here I thought that only happened in Sunnydale.”

“Is that near here?” he asked in adorable confusion.

“Oliver, we really need to address your lack of cultural knowledge. And you have no excuse on this one; that show was on way before you were living off coconuts.” She stood to place her tablet and phone in her bag before reaching for her coat.

He chuckled quietly. Only Felicity could make those five years something he could smile about.

“Are you going to Tommy’s party? He mentioned earlier that he’d finally convinced you to go.” Pushing off the wall to stand beside her, he took her coat and gestured for her to turn around. She couldn’t help the small shiver that went through her as he pulled the coat up over her shoulders and gathered her hair out of the way.

Damn. That move was her kryptonite.

She turned to face him, forgetting how close he would be and found herself mere inches from his solid chest. She could literally feel the warmth radiating off him, smell the soap he used in the Foundry and the woodsy, leathery scent that always seemed to cling to him.

Well, this would undoubtedly feature heavily in her dreams tonight.

“Felicity?”

She looked up at him in confusion. What had he asked her?

“Hmm?”

“Tommy’s party? Have you decided if you’re going? He mentioned earlier that you were but last I’d heard from you, you weren’t, so…”

He seemed nervous. Which made no sense.

She was having trouble focusing with him so close though, so maybe she was imagining things.

“Umm, no. Probably not. I told him I would but, no. I mean, maybe? _Ugh._ I honestly don’t know. I would have stopped by on my way to… you know where…,” she lowered her voice even though they were completely alone, “but since you said we all have the night off then I have no reason to head in. I think I just want to curl up on my couch and ignore the world tonight. How about you?”

She cocked her head in confusion at the look that crossed his face – she would swear it almost looked like disappointment – but lost her train of thought when he started speaking.

“No. I mean, I thought maybe if you …” he took a steadying breath to seemingly stop himself from saying anything more before he continued, “anyhow, no, the idea of a crowd of people all wearing masks…”

He trailed off and she reached for him before she could stop herself, her hand landing on his forearm and giving it a light squeeze. She didn’t want him spiraling down into Brooding Oliver territory, lost in memories of his years away. It was Halloween after all. Despite the effects of _The Week from Hell_ , she refused to wallow in broodiness, so she wouldn’t let him do it either.

“I know, not your thing,” she smiled quietly. “But maybe you should go. Take a night off and spend time with Thea and Tommy. I think… I think it would mean a lot to them. Especially Thea. She’s really looking forward to seeing you there – showing you what she’s accomplished with the club.”

She really didn’t want him to go – really didn’t relish the thought of him surrounded by drunk women in skimpy costumes – but she wanted him to be happy. He deserved to be happy. And she knew spending time with Tommy and Thea meant a lot to him.

He cocked his head to the side and studied her intently, a small smile gracing his face.

“You’ve been talking to Thea.”

“Ya, I mean… ya. I have. When I see her at the club, like I did the other night. I hope that’s okay – I know you like to keep Thea away from the vigilante part of your life and I’m clearly part of that. Not to mention I’m just your EA in her eyes, and you probably don’t want her thinking you’re spending time with me outside of work because that would look …”

“You’re not just my EA,” he interrupted in a low, husky tone. Felicity froze for a moment at the intensity with which he imbued that statement, and the flash of emotion in his eyes.

Crap. She’s had dreams that started this way. And now she was imagining similar things in real life.

She shook her head slightly before continuing. “She’s needed help with some stuff at the club since it reopened. Tommy gave her my number, so I’ve helped with things when I can. We’ve talked a bit and it’s been… nice. She’s really great Oliver.”

“Felicity – you never have to apologize to me for helping Thea. Or talking to her. I’m glad you’re getting to know her. She could use a friend like you; she needs to smile more after the year she’s had. And if there’s one thing I know, you make people smile – even brooding members of the Queen family.”

His words swept over her, filling her with surprise. And warmth. Oliver never said things like that. Ever.

They stood there, simply staring at each other as she held onto his arm. The office was quiet and dark, the sun was setting and the light from her desk lamp cast only a slight glow to the space. She had long ago turned down the overhead lights in an attempt to ease her headache.

Where minutes before it had proven calm and quiet, now the atmosphere felt different. Charged.

She knew she should go but she just couldn’t bring herself to. His skin was warm and firm to the touch. He had shed his suit coat and rolled up his shirt sleeves hours ago, so she could feel the muscles flexing beneath her touch and honestly couldn’t remember anything ever feeling that amazing.

And he wasn’t pulling away.

But she should.

She needed to step back. _Really_ needed to step back.

Remind herself that there were clear lines not to be crossed and that Oliver did not think of her as anything other than a friend and teammate. Letting herself imagine anything more, reading anything into his kind words and gentle touches, would only end with her hurt and humiliated, and Oliver inevitably adding that to his mountain of guilt when had to tell her he didn’t see her that way.

Which was why she didn’t do this with Oliver. She didn’t allow herself to touch him beyond the occasional finger jab or shoulder bump in teasing, because she couldn’t handle it.

Maybe he could, but she couldn’t.

This week had worn her out, weakened her defenses. And that meant she was dangerously close to allowing herself to hope for … something. And she was too damn tired to put her walls back up effectively.

So, she needed to leave. Now.

Oliver licked his lips and her eyes tracked the movement. She barely muffled the moan threatening to escape her own. How could something as innocuous as that be so damn appealing? She needed to let go of his arm before she did something stupid, like pull him towards her and lick those lips herself. He probably just had chapped lips. Dealing with dry, air-conditioned air in the office, and running around in the cold of night was rough to deal with, right? She should be a good partner and just hand him some lip balm.

“Felicity…,” his voice was lower than usual, dangerously rough, and she found herself frozen on the spot when she looked up at him, heat rushing to her core, a tidal wave of desire coursing through her before she could stop it. Whatever he saw in her eyes… she must not have masked her thoughts as well as she usually did because his own locked on, a storm of emotions causing the normally bright blue to darken to a deep cobalt. Nervousness, desire, and something else she couldn’t put a name to just yet flashed through them.

Hope flared in her chest before she could tamp it down. She had run her hand down the length of his forearm and was rubbing small circles on the inside of his wrist with her thumb without conscious thought. She felt the shiver that ran through him and she held her breath, afraid to say anything for fear of breaking the… whatever the hell this was that was happening.

“Felicity, I….” he moved a step closer and they were literally now so close she could feel the fabric of his slacks brush against her bare legs, the heat from his body washing over her.  

The elevator dinged loudly in the quiet space and they jumped apart in surprise.

One of the security guards making his normal rounds waved to them both before heading down the hall.

She looked back at Oliver only to find he had a confused, frustrated expression on his face.

Moment. Over.

Reality ringing the proverbial bell.

Her stomach sank like a weight. What the hell was she doing? What was she thinking? She needed to go. She needed to go and sit on her couch, _alone_ , drink wine, eat inappropriate amounts of candy and remind herself that Oliver didn’t think of her as anything more than his Girl Wednesday.

That she was never going to be a woman he wanted.

That he didn’t think of her _that_ _way_.

Reaching for anything more with him would only lead to unbearable heartache.

“I should get going – have to be home to hand out candy and all that.” Her voice sounded unnatural and strained even to her own ears. She tried desperately not to notice how cold she felt once she moved away from him, or the disappointment that seemed to pass over his features before he masked it.

Just as she turned to go, he called out to her.

“Felicity, wait, I ….,” He looked lost. Looked like he wanted to say more but just couldn’t. Probably that this was all nothing. That she shouldn’t read too much into it.

And it killed her.

He closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath, “Happy Halloween, Felicity.” He reached into his pocket and handed her something.

“Happy Halloween, Oliver,” it came out breathy and quiet, but she just couldn’t help it with all the emotions raging inside her.

As he turned to head back into his office, she looked down.

There, nestled in the palm of her hand, was a single Hershey’s kiss wrapped in green foil.

 

<<<<<<  >>>>>>

 

Felicity closed the door to her apartment and leaned against it, kicking off her shoes. She let the quiet dark of her home wash over her and took a deep breath.

She had made it through the week, but only barely. 

It had begun with a mystery package from her mom and an insanely confusing interaction with Oliver that had left her with wholly inappropriate hopes, only to have those hopes soundly dashed by Oliver’s subsequent behavior, and then rekindled once again by their interactions the past few days. It had ended with an even more emotional charged interaction with Oliver, and a single chocolate kiss in her hand.

She closed her eyes and recalled the look on Oliver’s face when he had handed it to her.

Her heart skipped a beat. For a moment, he’d looked like he wanted to …

No.

_No_.

She had to stop thinking about it.

After showering and fixing herself a light dinner – she planned to eat her weight in candy soon – she found herself sitting on her couch, staring at the chocolate kiss. 

The single, small, green, delectable chocolate kiss.

A green kiss.

From Oliver.

Green _like_ Oliver.

She tried not to let her mind wander to eating that chocolate, because she was just too damn tired to deal with the implications that lay therein. Her freshman year roommate – the psyche major – would’ve had a field day with it.

Felicity took a sip of the red she had opened and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they settled on the glittery black invitation sitting next to the confounded chocolate-that-shall-not-be-eaten.

She’d finally agreed to attend the party this morning when Tommy had stopped by the office. The week had been a disaster and she was just too tired to deal with him. It had seemed easier to just give in. And it seemed to make him honestly happy and excited that she’d said yes.

But, now that she was home and had enjoyed five minutes of peace, her mind started wandering. What if Oliver were at the party? He’d said he wasn’t going, and she knew it wasn’t his scene, but what if he changed his mind? She didn’t relish the idea of spending an evening watching women hit on him and possibly (probably) seeing him leave with one of them. The thought made her physically ill.

And she didn’t want to look like a desperate fool in a sexed-up costume. She knew she was good looking, but she would never look like the women he went for - she had curves, damnit, and was proud of them, even if that didn’t seem to be something Oliver went for - and she didn’t ever want him seeing her as pathetic and desperate, all dressed up with no one to talk to. 

She’d text an excuse to Tommy. He’d probably be so busy picking up woman and taking care of club business that he wouldn’t even notice her absence or that she’d texted him an excuse until it was too late in the evening for him to do anything about it.

She took another fortifying sip of wine. Desperately looking anywhere but at the green kiss or the glittering invitation.

Then her pesky conscience reared its head and reminded her she’d promised Tommy she’d go, and any excuse she came up with would be a lie. She didn’t like lying, particularly to her friends. Especially now that she had so few of them who really knew her. Ones she didn’t _have_ to lie to.

What the hell was she going to do? She was frustrated and tired and wanted to cry. Which made her mad and want to cry even more. It was a closed loop of emotional whiplash and she was ready to snap.

It took all of one minute before she picked up her phone and did something she swore she’d never do.

She called her mother for advice.

 

<<<<<<   >>>>>>

 

Donna picked up on the third ring.

“Felicity – oh my God! Baby girl – hold on just a sec.”  Felicity could hear the sounds of the casino floor fading away faintly in the background. Her mom must have stepped away to answer her call in the middle of her shift and something inside Felicity ached a bit at that.

“There – that’s better.  I can’t believe you actually called me!” Her excited squeal made Felicity cringe in pain for a moment. She’d forgotten just how high an octave her mom could reach.

“Is everything okay? You never call me! Oh my god – did something happen? Are you hurt? Did you meet someone? Do you need help figuring out the costume? Do you-”

“Mom. _Mom_. **_Mom_**! Just breathe,” Felicity took a breath of her own to control her rising frustration at Donna’s seemingly endless ramble of questions. Though it did give her newfound appreciation for what Digg and Oliver put up with on a daily basis.

Donna quieted immediately, hearing the unspoken stress in her daughter’s voice. “What is it baby girl?”

Felicity closed her eyes and pushed her glasses up, pinching the bridge of her nose, taking a steadying breath to stave off the wave of emotion crashing through her.

She didn’t even know where to begin.

So, she simply started talking.

She didn’t intend to tell her mom so much, but once she started it all came pouring out. Her insane work schedule (though she glossed over the particulars), the gossip at work over her new and unwanted promotion, her complicated friendship with her boss/friend, the damn party she agreed to go to. And somewhere, in the middle of it all, she started to feel lighter.

Her mom stayed surprisingly quiet throughout, offering up a few noises of agreement or outrage where appropriate, but otherwise just let Felicity vent. And, while talking to her mom, Felicity is reminded that, for all their differences, her mom knows a thing or two about life. And, perhaps most importantly right in this moment, knows a thing or two about heartache. About dealing with incredibly-too-handsome-for-their-own-good, impossibly-frustrating, rich men. About people judging you without knowing you. About telling the world to stand up and take notice.

“I don’t know what to do, Mom. I just….” Felicity trailed off as the words caught in her throat.

Donna may not know everything going on with Felicity, and God knows they have had their differences in the past, but she does _know_ her baby girl as only a mother can. And she can hear the frustration and tiredness and heartache in her voice, in what she’s _not_ saying. Particularly with regards to her _friendship_ with her boss.

Donna knows people judge her, and she decided a long time ago that it’s their loss if they miss out on knowing her because they made assumptions based on her style, or her job, or her personality. Because she’s an awesome person. And her daughter, well her daughter is even more amazing. And anyone who can’t see that isn’t worth her time.

“Baby girl, listen to me a moment. Take a breath and just hear me out.”

Donna pauses, and Felicity can hear a tone in her mother’s voice that she hasn’t heard since she was little and came home from school crying the first time she got teased for being different. “I can’t fix what’s going on with the gossip at work – and that Isabel women sounds absolutely awful - though I will say this, most people… they gossip because they’re jealous and unhappy with their own lives. You are better than the gossip. And anyone who can’t see that you’re brilliant and beautiful isn’t worth your time. But don’t hide. And don’t settle. Don’t let the chance to go out and live pass you by because you’re worried what others will think, or that you could get hurt. Sometimes life hurts. But, in the end, playing it safe hurts the most.”

Felicity swallows back the tears threatening to overwhelm her. She’s surprised at how much she misses her mom, how long it’s been since they’ve talked like this, how much better she feels hearing her voice and handing over her problems to her for a few minutes, how quickly her mom realized what she needed and simply provided it. With love and patience and surprising clarity.

Of all her mom’s advice, it’s her last comment that decides it for Felicity. Makes her throw caution to the wind. Because she’d played it safe for years, for all the time between Cooper and when she’d moved to Starling City and took an entry level IT job that was way below her talent level. And while it had been calm and free of drama, it hadn’t really been living. It had been hiding.

But, she realized in a moment of clarity, that had begun to change the moment Oliver Queen walked into her life with a bullet-ridden laptop, and her life has been richer because of it. The moment she’d met Oliver, she’d started living again. She’d signed onto his vigilante crusade, stopped an earthquake machine, built a super-secret superhero lair, and jumped out of a god-damned plane to haul Oliver back to Starling City and make him face his life.

Maybe it was time she faced her own.

Figure out why was she suddenly playing it safe again. Why she was sitting at home wallowing in self-doubt when she could be out there taking chances. _Living._

“You’re right mom. I’m going to do it. What the hell. Why not?”

Felicity couldn’t help but huff a laugh as Donna halted her pep-talk mid-word in total surprise.

“You’re actually going to do it? You mean I … I actually helped?”

Felicity can practically hear her mom tearing up and tries to suppress the pang in her heart. She’s never been easy on her mom, she knows that. She hasn’t listened to her advice in years. They’ve just always been so different, but she’s glad – _really_ _glad_ – she called her.

Maybe she and her mom had reached a turning point. Maybe they could talk about things like normal people do.

“Ya mom, I’m going to go to the party _and_ I’m going to wear the costume.”

Felicity is unsure whether she can _literally_ hear the squeal of excitement all the way from Vegas, or if she’s hearing it through the phone, but, regardless, she nearly drops the thing in shock.

Annnnnd…. her mom is back to form. The brief sojourn into seriousness gone as quickly as it came.

Her mom’s excitement is palpable, and audible. Felicity takes a moment to just smile and lets her mom ramble on and on. She’s in the middle of a particularly Donna-esque rant about men and their total inability to resist a good Halloween costume when Felicity interrupts her, reminding her that she needs to go and get ready.

Donna can’t resist herself and throws in a parting, “Send me a sexy photo! And baby, I put a few surprises in that arrow-holding thingy.”

“Arrow-holding thingy? You mean a quiver?” Felicity can’t help but smile at the mental image of Oliver ever hearing her mom say that.

Then the reality of that statement sinks in.

“Wait – why are you talking about a quiver? What does a quiver have to do with my costume?!”

“Enjoy it baby! It’s like a purse, but bigger! Full of things I always forget I need at a party!”

 “Wait - Mom, what costume did you put in that box?!”

“You’ll just have to look baby! Have fun! Do everything I would do!”

Felicity is left holding the phone as the line goes dead, amusement and horror washing over her in equal measure as she stares at the unopened box sitting on her kitchen table.

She’d actually talked to her mom and come out of it feeling better.

Maybe this was a night for the supernatural and weird after all.

Now she just needed to open that damn box … even though she had pretty good idea what she’d find.

 

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<   >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

_Verdant, 9:00 pm_

Felicity handed her cash to the cab driver and stepped onto the curb in front of Verdant, the cold air immediately assaulting her. A reminder of just how damn short her skirt really was.

She’d left her hair down and in its natural state – a riotous mass of curls that reached well past her shoulders were now blowing wildly about her face. Tucking a few behind her ear before pulling the hood up over her head, she headed towards Jimmy, one of the bouncers she knew from her job as “IT help” at the club. The line was long to get in, already stretching down the block and around the corner. Felicity eyed the women shivering in their skimpy costumes and smiled, jumping the line right to the front. Knowing Tommy and Oliver had its perks in moments like this.

Jimmy didn’t look up from his clipboard as she came to a stop in front of him. “Sorry lady, but you need to stand in line like everyone else…,” he trailed off as his eyes widened in shock, finally looking up at her.

“Hey Jimmy! Happy Halloween!”

His eyes traveled down her body, taking in the tight green leather gripping her torso, covered with shimmering feathered stitching accentuating her curves, over the short leather skirt that split over her toned thighs to allow for easy movement, all the way down to the bow she was holding and her sky-high glittering green stilettos, then back up to her face, a wide grin breaking out.

“Damn girl – you look...,” he huffed out a laugh, “I don’t know if I should let you in, you’re liable to cause a riot lookin’ like you do.”

Felicity blushed at his words.

He moved to unhook a velvet rope to let her by as a pair of women at the front of the line started to protest loudly.

“Hey! We’ve been waiting for hours – why does _she_ get to go in?”

“Ladies, she’s family around here, but quite frankly, even if she weren’t, there’s no way I’d keep my job if Mr. Merlyn or Mr. Queen knew I’d made a woman who looked like _this_ wait for anything.”

He leaned in so only Felicity could hear as she walked past, “Particularly Mr. Queen I think,” and winked at her.

Before Felicity could process that fully and explain to him that not only did Oliver not see her that way but that he wasn’t even at the club tonight, Jimmy was ushering her through the doors and her jaw dropped as she took in the space, the music and revelry driving all thoughts of Jimmy’s comment momentarily away.

Tommy had outdone himself.

The club’s usual green, industrial theme was completely transformed by iridescent black fabric cascading from the rafters to the railings surrounding the second floor VIP space while orange and black arrangements glittered and soared from the tall tables ringing the dance floor. Towering, glittery black trees, their spindly limbs stretching out like gnarled fingers, were covered in glowing lights and lined the edges of the space, adding to the scene, their low glow creating an exotic and suggestive ambience, the overall effect not unlike a haunted, magical forest. Flickering jack-o-lanterns carved with abstract designs clustered around their bases added a pop of color. Holiday appropriate but not too cute. Fog machines poured out additional ambience from strategic locations around the club as waitresses clad in leather and silk costumes that appeared to be a cross between a vampire and a vintage playboy bunny – costumes even Felicity could admire – were circling with trays of glowing, blood-red shots and popping succulent pieces of candy apples and chocolates into the mouths of willing partygoers.

It was hedonistic and sexy with just the right amount of class. Classic Tommy Merlyn. Felicity couldn’t help but be impressed by the show. And having grown up in Vegas, she knew shows. This one – she approved whole-heartedly.

A group of men walked past and whistled. She pulled the hood lower over her face, grateful for the anonymity it offered and immediately thought of Oliver before reminding herself she was here to relax for the night, not pine after the man she lov---. Not pine after her friend.

Partner.

Boss.

Vigilante.

_Whatever_.

She was here to see some friends, have a few drinks and unwind, and then head home. Maybe after ducking downstairs just to check on some searches she’d left running.

With that thought in mind, she gripped her bow tighter, threw her shoulders back and headed towards the bar to find Tommy.

He’d told her Oliver wasn’t coming, that despite his herculean efforts (and boy had she raised her eyebrow in surprise at his use of that word) he just couldn’t convince his best friend to take a night off from brooding. It was the only reason Felicity had convinced herself to wear this costume and not one of the others in her closet. Oliver wasn’t going to be here – he’d told her so himself – so she felt perfectly safe wearing it and winning her bet with Tommy.

He’d promised her a case of his best red wine if he couldn’t properly guess the costume in the box by the time the party rolled around. He’d surprised her by actually guessing a few that she had in her closet, automatically ensuring she wouldn’t be wearing one of those, but he had never guessed _this_ costume – hadn’t come close - and he’d been guessing all week. The teasing she was sure to endure was worth it to win that case of wine he’d told her about. He’d acquired it at a rare wines auction and Felicity wanted it.

Badly.

And she could ensure he never told Oliver what she’d worn by reminding him that she could wipe out his bank accounts and put him on every no-fly list out there with a few clicks on a keyboard. So, a win-win in her book.

She was stopped by more than a few men – and even one woman – as she edged her way through the crowd and up to the bar. She smiled confidently; she had to hand it to her mom. It was a badass costume. Felicity had called her back on her way to the party to ask how the hell she had come up with this as a costume. Evidently the fact that the vigilante had rescued her daughter during the earthquake had put him on Donna’s good list. And she adored the idea of a hot man running around in leather.

She headed towards an empty space near the end of the bar, hoping to catch Roy’s attention quickly and order her favorite glass of red from the secret stash Oliver behind the bar. She’d discovered the stash after a few particularly hard nights in the Foundry (she wasn’t a scotch drinker like Oliver, or whiskey like Digg, and Oliver had evidently taken note). She was leaning forward over the bar to catch Roy’s eye when she felt a finger drag down her arm. A man to her left was leaning in way too close. She smelled the alcohol and cologne even before she felt his hot breath wash over her and fought the urge to gag. 

“I think I know what you have a taste for doll face, and they’re not serving it behind the bar.”

She barely contained her grimace at the truly horrible pick-up line but couldn’t help the small snort of laughter when she took in his costume. Between the suit and fedora, slicked back hair and plastic Tommy Gun braced against his shoulder, she supposed he was going for Al Capone, but was succeeding only in looking like an idiot and sounding amazingly ridiculous with the fake accent. And after dealing with the real thing since she’d joined the team, Felicity found she had little tolerance for mobster costumes.

She’d handle this guy and let him move on to someone else in the club who would actually appreciate that line. He was obnoxious, but harmless.

Channeling her inner Donna, she deadpanned to him, “Let me guess. You’re serving it?”

His smile was pure male ego as he looked her over, head to foot, lingering on her chest. As he opened his mouth to speak, she raised a hand to cut him off.

“In case you were confused, that wasn’t an invitation. I’m not interested, but thanks for the offer. I can get my own drink.”

She turned back to the bar, desperately hoping to catch any of the bartenders at this point, just as she felt the asshole lower his gun and run the tip of it up her leg, toying with the edge of her skirt before stepping into her personal space. She recoiled in surprise.

“No, I think _you’re_ confused –”

She backed up a step and felt her stomach clench as she bumped into another body. Another man.

Boxing her in.

The new one leaned down to whisper in her ear, picking up where his friend had left off, “I think you’re the one’s who’s confused sweetheart. My friend just offered you … a drink.”

She could hear the leer in his voice.

“You’d be a fool to refuse it. Maybe it’s your lucky night and I’ll offer you one too. Whatta’ya say doll face? I know what girls like you have a taste for.”

Shit. These weren’t harmless assholes in a bar trying out a few truly horrible pickup lines.

Felicity’s heart rate spiked at the same time anger and annoyance crashed through her. The music was pounding and the crowds of people around her were dancing, shouting, drinking – totally oblivious to anything going on. She may as well have been alone in an alley with these two. She was boxed in between them and the bar. The bartenders were overwhelmed with orders at the far end of the bar and most of the bouncers were focused on the doors, dance floor and VIP area. And she was close to the end of the bar, which meant alarmingly close to the dark hallway that led to the storage rooms. If they grabbed her… She stepped away as quickly as she could, Digg’s self-defense lessons running through her head.

Two hands gripped her waist painfully from behind, holding her in place as she tried to move away, just as the asshole in front of her edged in closer, a hand reaching for her, when suddenly the hands on her waist were gone.

She heard a grunt of pain from behind her just as she felt a warm body press up against her back, an arm snaking around her waist to pull her flush against a wall of solid muscle. A hand shot forward and grabbed the first ass hole’s wrist, twisting hard enough that she heard the crack even over the howl of pain.

“The lady said no. If you don’t want more than a broken wrist, I suggest you stay down.”

The muscle.

The low, growly voice.

The scent of leather and forest.

She calmed instantly and settled back into the warmth on instinct, her body recognizing him even before her mind fully registered who it was.

But Felicity being Felicity, her mind caught up. Fast.

Oliver.

_Oliver._

_Oliver was here._

She looked up to see Tommy standing halfway down the stairs to the VIP area, the shock on his face slowly giving way to the biggest shit-eating grin she’d ever seen.

One thought overrode all others.

Frackin’ Tommy Merlyn. She was going to kill him. 


	5. Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party continues! Combine green leather, UST, and loads of unintentional innuendos as Oliver comes face to face with Felicity and her costume.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, this is the longest chapter to date so I hope you enjoy! I intended it to be from both Oliver and Felicity's POV, but it flowed better just from Oliver's. Don't worry though, we'll return to Felicity, Tommy and Oliver in the next installment. 
> 
> I intended this to only be 5 chapters long but it's already stretched into 6. I have a feeling I may continue it further is anyone is interested :) Drop me a line and let me know!

_Previously in It Started on a Monday…._

_She calmed instantly and settled back into the warmth on instinct, her body recognizing him even before her mind fully registered who it was._

_But Felicity being Felicity, her mind caught up. Fast._

_Oliver._

Oliver _._

_Oliver was here._

_She looked up to see Tommy standing halfway down the stairs to the VIP area, the shock on his face slowly giving way to the biggest shit-eating grin she’d ever seen._

_One thought overrode all others._

_Frackin’ Tommy Merlyn. She was going to kill him._

Oliver had been at the party two hours already, which was two hours longer than he wanted to be there.

Two hours in a ridiculous costume, surrounded by masses of drunk people.

Waiters scurrying past him.

Women groping him.

All – literally _all_ – social decorum seemed to have gone out the window because it was Halloween. Ollie would have loved it, taken advantage of it to the fullest. Oliver – he just wanted to melt into the shadows and not speak to anyone.

Well, that wasn’t totally true.

There was one person he wanted to speak to. Always. But, so far, he hadn’t spotted her. And God knew he’d been looking. Tommy had been relentless in teasing him about how distracted he was, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t distracted; he was focused. Focused on finding the one person he wanted to see but hadn’t. Yet.

He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. He didn’t want her around this crowd (his eyes narrowed as they focused on a group of guys being a bit too forward with some women on the dance floor before he saw one of the bouncers moving in to deal with it), but he also couldn’t help the pang of disappointment that he might not see her at all tonight. Why the hell had he told her to take the night off? If she were down in the Lair he’d know exactly where she was, and she’d be safe because he’d be down there with her. And more to the point, she wouldn’t be wearing some insanely sexy costume around this crowd of men.

The thought of her wearing it in the Lair, while bent over her computer station, came unbidden to his mind and he quickly closed his eyes and counted to ten. God-damned Tommy and his endless ideas about what that costume could be. Oliver had been through hell, but this past week had been a special kind of torture.

Opening his eyes and calming his breathing, he eyed the group on the dance floor once more and saw the bouncer was now escorting the group of men out the back door to the alley.

Good.

One less thing to worry about.

He turned his attention back to the crowd on the floor below, looking for Felicity. It was hedonistic insanity down there. A grinding, loud mass of revelers.

_Shit. What if she were wearing a mask? Or a wig?_

The sudden image of Felicity as a red-head, then raven-haired, flashed through his mind. He knew her blonde hair wasn’t her natural shade. She’d dropped that memorable bombshell on him early in their friendship, but his mind still couldn’t reconcile it. Felicity as anything other than blonde didn’t sit well with him. Blonde suited her. It reflected her personality perfectly.

Jesus. _What was wrong with him?_ If Thea or Tommy ever heard him say anything that sappy he’d never hear the end of it.

But it didn’t lessen the truth of the matter. Felicity… her entire look reflected the essence of who she was. He didn’t mean she was happiness and optimism personified. He wasn’t so big an asshole as to put her on a pedestal and not allow her bad days. Dark days. They were necessary, or the good days meant nothing.

It was just that in the grand scheme, the final balance, he knew in his bones that Felicity’s brightness, her belief in the good in people, would outweigh the dark days. It was just who she was. She was brightness and hope, _his_ brightness and hope.

And he damned well wasn’t going to let random drunk assholes ogle her, let alone touch her.

So, that meant he’d stand up here in this ridiculous costume and endure how uncomfortable the crowd made him, till the last guest left, if it meant he could look out for her.

And, he just really needed to see her. Talk to her. 

He’d be the first to admit he’d been off kilter all week, and that the confusion and upset were _one hundred percent_ his fault. He’d been an ass, but he’d been trying to fix it. He’d taken Tommy’s words to heart, and now that he’d admitted to himself how he felt about Felicity, the need to see her, to _do_ something about it, was overwhelming.

The way they’d left things at the office early tonight? It was eating away at him, because he could have sworn, for the briefest of moments, that maybe Tommy was right, that maybe Felicity _did_ feel something more for him than simple physical attraction. And now that the mere possibility of that had entered his thoughts, he couldn’t let it go. He had to find out for sure.  

He mentally shook himself from his thoughts. There wasn’t anything he could do about it until he found her. And he sure as hell was going to find her if she showed up to the party.

He’d spot her, mask or wig be damned, because he would know her anywhere.

He straightened up from his perch against the railing, stretching his spine and rolling his shoulders to relieve some of the tension, when he felt it. He barely contained the violent flinch that ran through his body and had to stop himself from turning quickly and throwing a punch at whoever had touched him.

Had to remind himself that someone groping his ass in a nightclub probably wasn’t a threat the Arrow needed to deal with.

A voice – he supposed it was meant to be sultry – whispered in his ear. He tried not to grimace as warm breath and the overpowering smell of perfume and tequila assaulted his senses.

“Wanna try these on me? I’ve been a _Very. Bad. Girl_.”

Oliver turned his head slightly, noting handcuffs dangling over his shoulder from a slim hand with wicked looking red nails. His mind immediately flashed to how much better Felicity’s short nails looked in that color, or any color for that matter. He steeled himself, taking a drink of his scotch and plastering on his Ollie smile of old, before turning fully, his gaze settling on the woman invading his personal space.

A gorgeous, leggy brunette. Hungry eyes. Oozing sex appeal. Exactly his type years ago. She was dressed in an obscenely short, tight, black-and-white striped dress with a serial number emblazoned across the left side of her chest.

Sexy inmate.

Great. She was the fifth one tonight. He barely checked an exasperated sigh.

How the designers even managed to fit a number that long on that little amount of fabric, Oliver would never know. The dress barely contained her cleavage.

 “What’ya say, Officer?” She drew one long nail down his stomach before hooking it into the waistband of his tan pants.

Oliver was going to kill Tommy. What the hell had he been thinking giving him a police uniform to wear? And not just any uniform – this one was straight out of CHiPs. He knew because his mom used to watch reruns of that show when she thought no one was around to catch her. She’d probably thought it too pedestrian for a Queen. Oliver had loved the motorcycles though.

But the knee-high leather boots were constricting, and the damn pants were tighter than his Arrow leathers, which was saying something. The shirt was equally tight and open practically to mid-chest. He didn’t remember that from the show, so he chalked it up to Tommy.

Tommy had found the irony hysterical. The Arrow dressed up as a cop? The grin on his face alone should have given Oliver pause when Tommy had handed him the garment bag containing the costume without deigning to tell him what was inside, save for a giddy, “Mine matches!”

Oliver supposed he meant that to be reassuring.

It wasn’t.

But he had never been able to resist a happy Tommy Merlyn, and Oliver wanted his friend to be happy. He’d had a hell of year. So, he’d agreed to wear the damn thing, no questions asked.

A tug on his waistband brought him back to the present.

“Wanna frisk me?”

Oliver barely contained his grimace at the truly clichéd line as he took a step back, just enough to force the woman’s hand to fall away, but she followed him. Of course.

If he had a dollar for how many times he’d heard that line in the last two hours, he’d be …well, he’d be even richer than he already was.

He was about to politely turn her down when a crash behind him had him spinning in surprise, immediately searching for a threat. A waitress edging her way around the rowdy crowd had simply dropped a tray of drinks; he forced his heartrate back to normal. But then he caught a familiar flash of blonde hair on the dance floor, heading toward the bar, and all coherent thought fled.

_Felicity._

He leaned forward.

Was she wearing… _Christ._

There was no way she was wearing what he thought she was wearing. His subconscious had clearly taken over the helm and finally supplied him with a vision of Felicity in the one thing that would absolutely bring him to his knees. Tear down all his carefully erected walls. Because in _all_ of his fantasies, and God knew he’d had many, he had never, _never_ , allowed himself to envision this.

He downed the rest of his scotch in one swallow, plucked the handcuffs from the woman’s hand and brushed past her without a word, barely registering her offended protests.

He passed an open-mouthed Tommy at the head of the stairs, drink suspended midair, staring at the dance floor with a shocked expression, clearly seeing exactly what Oliver was seeing.

So maybe it wasn’t his imagination after all. 

As he passed by, Oliver could swear he heard a muttered, “I did _not_ have pickup lines ready for that possibility…”

Stamping down the urge to clock his best friend, Oliver headed down the stairs, working his way through the mass of people dancing and laughing. The pounding beat of his pulse seemed to match that of the song blaring through the speakers.

He lost sight of her for a moment, the crowd simply too thick and too drunk to let him through easily, despite his size. He glowered as a particularly drunk group of women stepped in his way, blocking his path yet again, but reigned in his frustration before he did something rude.

His greater height allowed him to see past them, and all pretense at politeness left him as he saw two men cornering Felicity near the end of the bar, one of them running a finger suggestively down her arm as she tensed up and tried to step away, only to be stopped by another man standing behind her.

He saw red.

“Move,” he growled – voice low and surprisingly close to when his voice modulator was on.

“I can move lots of ways officer. You have anything particular in mind?” The suggestive voice barely registered before he felt two hands land on his chest and dig in. He looked down in surprise.

Claws.

From a sexy cat.

_Seriously?_

Then she had the gall to meow.

She actually _meow_ - _d_ at him.

He officially hated Halloween.

Barely sparing the woman a glance, he grabbed her hands (claws?) and bodily moved her out of the way, mindful not to be rough despite the rage boiling inside him.

Ignoring her surprised squeak, he pushed through the crowd, singularly focused on the scene playing out at the bar.

The primal rage coursing through Oliver’s veins was new. He’d felt rage before. Countless times. But this? Seeing those men put their hands on Felicity, and how she recoiled in disgust and unease – _this_ rage was something new. It pulled at something deep inside him, something visceral and untouched that was roaring to be unleashed.

He moved on pure instinct. Focused entirely on the guy who had his hands around Felicity’s waist. Hands that were slowly trailing lower. Hands. That. He. Was. Going. To. Break.

And he did.

Without pausing to think, he stepped over the guy writhing in pain on the ground right up to Felicity, one arm shooting out to gather her in close, the other reaching past her to snap the wrist of the leering guy reaching for her.

“The lady isn’t interested. If you don’t want more than a broken wrist, I suggest you stay down.”

He barely registered the angry snarls and threats coming from the two assholes on the ground because he was too preoccupied with catching Roy’s eye and signaling him to get the bouncers before he did anything more. Like kill the idiot who had touched Felicity with a fake gun.

Preoccupied, that was, until he came to the sudden realization that he had a leather-clad Felicity Smoak in his arms. Leaning against him. Trusting him. Knowing him without needing to look. And once again not running from him in fear and disgust when his darker side came out.

He took a deep breath to calm the adrenaline still rushing through him, only to have it replaced with a rush of something else as he breathed in the scent of her. Fresh air and sunshine and warmth… and leather?

He looked down.

_Fuck._

He always forgot how small she was. It was easy to given the fact that she was an unstoppable force when she wanted to be. She managed to railroad him and Digg through sheer force of will alone. But right now, that height difference? He was incredibly aware of it. Even with the sky-high heels she was wearing, her head only came up to the crook of his neck, and as she was leaning back fully against him it offered him the perfect view of the full, rounded swell of her breasts straining against the low-cut, tight corset of green leather.

And miles of toned leg.

 _And_ of the bow clutched in her hand.

His leather.

His green.

 _His_ costume.

She was dressed as the Arrow.

The image of her clutching his actual bow in her delicate, skilled hands and wearing his real hood suddenly flooded his mind and the desire that swept through his veins like wildfire was unlike any he’d known.

His head was swimming. Every drop of blood in his body heating and coursing south. He felt himself harden instantly and once again cursed Tommy for the tight pants.

Felicity was pressed so tightly against him there was no way she didn’t feel his body’s reaction. And no way he couldn’t feel the moment she shifted from relaxed to tense. Her entire body froze up.

It was like someone had suddenly doused him with cold water.

_Fuck._

Why had he grabbed her and held on? He could have dealt with the situation without manhandling her. He was no better than the assholes who had been harassing her.

The moment seemed to stretch on endlessly.

She just stood there in his arms, tense as hell. Probably debating whether to push him away and use her Loud Voice on him, or just walk away in disgust. Either way, he’d fucked up and deserved every ounce of recrimination she was going to throw at him. He’d already confused the hell out of her all week. God knew he’d confused the hell out of himself. Just because he’d come to realize what he felt and wanted didn’t mean she had.

He’d crossed every line they’d silently drawn. Touching her shoulder, the small of her back, helping her with her coat. He’d allowed himself those small moments of intimacy. Told himself they would be enough. That she’d never know them for what they really were. What they meant to him. But the way he was holding her now went way beyond that.

He couldn’t explain this away as a friendly, purely platonic gesture.

And hell, he didn’t want to anymore. This week had at least shown him that.

So, he needed to leave. Now. Before he did something even more damaging to their friendship. Because she clearly didn’t like being held by him. Clearly didn’t feel the same way he did.

His heart felt like it was in a vice and he couldn’t breathe. The room was closing in around him, the noise and commotion unbearable. He hadn’t had a panic attack in months, not since Felicity had come back into his life after traveling with Digg to Lian Yu to bring him home. A fact that he had had only recently begun to recognize for what it truly meant.

But he could feel one starting now.

He was spiraling into his well-deserved hell of self-recrimination and guilt, and loosened his grip on her immediately. Just as he was pulling away, fumbling to come up with an apology, her hand shot up and grabbed his forearm.

She held it midair.

Just _held_ _it_.

And then Felicity Smoak did what she had always done. She turned his world upside down with the smallest of gestures. 

She gently squeezed his arm.

Simply squeezed it and his world righted itself.

His heart skipped a beat.

Felicity ran her small hand down till it lay over his clenched fist, and guided it back around her waist, holding on tightly until he followed her lead and once again secured her firmly against his body. When he relaxed his fist and splayed his fingers around her waist, she laid hers right over top and melted back against him.

He stared, mesmerized. Her hand was so small compared to his. Pale to his tan. Smooth to his callused. Did she even realize the strength she wielded?

The small part of his brain still functioning noted her nails were green.

 _His green_.

She’d covered herself in his color and the primal satisfaction he felt at that was staggering.

 _God damn._ What else she was wearing that was green?

His mind quickly filled with possibilities, each more enticing than the last, before he blocked them out.

Why was he such an asshole? Moments ago he’d been convinced he’d lost her because of his actions, and now he was right back to lusting after her. She was probably upset and just felt safe with him. That was why she held onto him. And it would be enough. He’d make it be enough. Even though he knew he wanted so much more.

And he needed to stop mentally undressing her.

Any moment now.

He watched, captivated, as their hands rose together as she took a deep breath; could feel the tension release out of every muscle in her body. Somehow being near him, being held in his arms, helped her. He couldn’t fathom why.

But it was the best damn thing he’d ever felt in his entire life.

They stood entwined like that for minutes. Hours. He couldn’t tell. Didn’t care. The crowd, the music, it melted away until all he could sense was the heat from her body pressed against his own. The gentle rise and fall of her chest as her breathing evened out. His heartbeat and breathing slowed to match hers. It felt natural. _Right_.

Finally, she took a deep, slow breath (he cursed that damn corset as his heartrate spiked again) and angled her head up and back to look at him.

Their eyes locked.

Hers were the most intoxicating shade of blue, and they were swimming with emotion. He recognized those emotions for what they were - desire, lust, gratefulness, anxiety, fear, confusion, hope. Recognized them because he saw the same in his own when he looked in a mirror and allowed himself the rare chance to imagine something more than simple friendship with Felicity.

She bit her bottom lip, her white teeth sinking into the lush red flesh so deeply he half expected her to draw blood.

“Oliver.”

It was whispered. Breathy. Cautious.

 _Hopeful_.

“Fe-li-ci-ty.”

He couldn’t help the way he growled her name any more than he could stop his arm from tightening around her as she bodily shivered.

She closed her eyes briefly and he could swear he heard a tiny moan escape and a muttered, “How the hell does he _do_ that? He does have a superpower. I _knew_ it.”

And just like that the tension was cut. He barely bit back a laugh. It was just so typical Felicity.

She turned in his hold till she was facing him. He could see the hesitancy, the insecurity, start to overtake her. They didn’t do this with each other, this wasn’t how they were. But God he wanted it to be.

And maybe she did too.

There was a small ember of hope in his heart that he was so damned afraid to stoke, afraid that if he did and he’d read her wrong, it would burn him alive. He couldn’t bear her rejection, especially if it ruined their friendship, if he made her so uncomfortable she cut him out completely.

Her eyes washed over him, darting from his eyes to his lips and back again. Looking for something. For an answer to so many unspoken questions.

“ _Felicity_ ”, he whispered her name again as she stared deep into his eyes, willing her to read him, to know him, as she always had.

Then something changed, shifted in her expression. He’d seen it happen with her before, seen it when she was mulling over a problem and came to a decision. Decided on a course of action and committed to it. It was in the set of her jaw, the smoothing of the crease between her brows, the sparkle in her eyes.

She cocked her head to the side (did she know what that look did to him?) and leaned back just enough to look him up and down, slowly, with intent, until she locked eyes with him once more.

And that ember in his heart? It burst into a fucking inferno.

All he could see under the hood were piercing blue eyes outlined in iridescent shades of green and black in a mesmerizing imitation of his mask, a smile playing at the corners of her full red lips, bright hair tumbling out in wave upon wave of golden curls. He was speechless. He’d never seen her look at him so openly. So unabashedly. Yes, he’d caught her watching him with a glazed look in her eye many times while he worked out, but she’d always blushed and looked away when caught. He’d never been subject to _this_ brazen look or he sure as hell would have fallen from the salmon ladder.

Her eyes continued their slow track over his body and he swore he could feel it like a caress. To which his body responded accordingly. His damn costume didn’t conceal a thing.

He allowed his own eyes to wander. Knowing what she was wearing was one thing. Seeing her up close in his hood, taking in all the details – he’d never seen anything so damn arousing in his entire life. It really was an amazing costume – nothing at all like the cheap, overly obvious ones the women around them were wearing.  

He forced himself to concentrate. To use every damn skill he’d ever mastered for focusing on the problem at hand.

They needed to talk. They needed to talk and sort this out and make sure they were on the same page before –

“Soooo, at least I didn’t reveal my secret identity by surprising you in the back seat of your car after getting shot.”

He cocked one eyebrow in surprise as she interrupted his thoughts. Of all the things he expected her to say…

“But then again, you probably rode your motorcycle here. _Please_ tell me you did. It would be a crime against women everywhere – mankind in general, really – if you wore that costume and _didn’t_ ride your motorcycle here.”

Leave it to Felicity to actually recognize his costume. He shouldn’t have been surprised. The woman had an unparalleled love of television. But was she teasing him? Flirting with him? God, if she was, she rambled even when flirting.

His body was damn near vibrating with nervous energy. The need he had for her was all encompassing.  

He was done for. _Done._ She was officially the only woman on the planet who could affect him this way.

And. He. Loved. It.

_Loved her._

He closed his eyes for a moment as he finally admitted that to himself. God. He’d fought it for months. In all honesty, probably since the moment he’d met her. Since a red pen, and, “my coffee shop is in a bad neighborhood.” And with that realization, with finally acknowledging what his heart had known all along, something inside of him settled. Clicked into place. Even admitting to himself that he liked her as more than a friend had left him feeling unsettled, incomplete. This, though, acknowledging that he loved her… the feeling of upset, of discord, that he’d been battling for months dissipated.

“But I guess if you did, then it wouldn’t have a backseat, so you couldn’t find me there. Not that you were looking for me. Or that you’d want to find me in your backseat. Because people do… things… in backseats. And I’m not implying you want to do things to me. I mean _with_ me. In your backseat. Or, anywhere.”

Desire, sharp and hot, coursed through him at the idea of what things he wanted to do to her. But before he could even respond to that glorious ramble he registered the nervousness in her voice. The flirtatious tone from moments earlier shifting, the confident glimmer in her eye dimming. And he felt her start to back away.

_No. What? No._

He looked at her in confusion. Had he misread this? Or had she simply changed her mind, remembered all the reasons he wasn’t good enough for her? He felt bile rising in his throat and the ever-present self-doubt started to overwhelm him again.

What had he said to make her think he didn’t want – ?

 _Shit_.

He hadn’t said anything. Not a single damn word besides her name.

He was so used to her talking while he listened in silence, but that wasn’t okay here. She was reading his complete lack of response as a rejection.  She’d put herself out there, stepped over the lines the two of them had so carefully drawn and he’d simply stood there like an idiot and said nothing.

As if he would ever reject her. As if any man in here would. But a small voice in his head, the one he had listened to for years, told him he was worthless. That he couldn’t have good things. Couldn’t have a happy story.

But Felicity, he knew, in his bones, could be his happy story.

But the voice was there again, reminding him that he’d destroy her, hurt her; reminding him why he’d denied his feelings and kept her at arm’s length for months. That she was safer away from him. That she deserved a man who wasn’t broken.

He wasn’t blind, he knew Felicity was attracted to him. But he’d convinced himself it was just physical, that she couldn’t _actually_ feel something for someone like him. Because the people Felicity cared for- they mattered. They were worth something. And he wasn’t sure he was.

He opened his mouth to say something. Anything. But nothing came out. He was spiraling. Panicking. Locked between what he wanted and his fears. And God, as much as he wanted her, all he could think of were the reasons why he’d told himself for months that she was better off without him.

Maybe he should let her think he didn’t want her. Maybe he should let her go. Maybe hurting her would finally get her to leave. To be safe. With someone else.

She scrunched her eyes shut, as if in pain, and took another small step back, trying to disengage his arm. To get away from him.

No.

_No._

He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t, let her walk away thinking that. It physically pained him to have her step away. To know she would eventually find another man, look at him with love and lust. Share a bed – _a life_ – with some other man.

He thought he knew pain, thought he’d felt the worst of it on the island, in Hong Kong, in Russia. But this? _This_? If he lost her entirely, if he let her walk away thinking he’d rejected her when she’d had the courage to take a chance on him? He couldn’t survive that.

His doubts and fears didn’t matter, not if he were strong enough. They were just another foe to be defeated. And defeating foes – fighting back – those were things he excelled at. Especially with Felicity Smoak at his side.

He could be with her. He could be happy.

He _could_.

At least he could try.

The thought scared the hell out of him, but it wouldn’t stop him. He could offer himself, damaged as he was. At least then he could look back with no regrets. He’d had enough of those.

He was done listening to the voice in his head that told him he existed only to suffer. Only to feel guilt and pain. Felicity was who he should be listening to. She was the most important voice in his head. And it was time he showed her that.

And if it were in a club full of drunk people wearing costumes while he was dressed as a TV cop from the 80’s and Felicity was dressed as his alter ego, then so be it. It was strangely perfect. Felicity would appreciate the irony, at least if she didn’t run away from him right now.

First things first, he needed to nip this rejection idea of hers in the bud.

He tightened his hold on her waist, slowly drawing her flush against his body once more, his other hand coming up to cup her face. When she was pressed fully against him, front to front for the first time, he moaned at the feeling her flush against his body. Her curves to his hard angles.

Her eyes widened in surprise and he heard the bow clatter to the ground. Surprise was emblazoned across her face before her eyes darkened, dilated. He let his gaze travel down to her parted lips and he slowly licked his own. He felt a shiver run through her and he once again fixed his eyes on hers.

“Don’t go. Please.”

He held her tight, willing her to read him as she always had. Like only she could.

The leather felt smooth and supple beneath his hand, her skin warm and soft. So, he stood there, holding the woman of his dreams, his best friend, as he held his breath and waited for her to react. To understand. To choose to stay. He could read the confusion in her beautiful blue eyes, in the tilt of her head as she leaned into his caress. She was looking at him like he was a problem to solve, a particularly tricky line of code. He’d seen the look on her face often enough during late nights in the Foundry to recognize it.

So, he held her and waited.

It felt like an eternity passed before he saw the smallest of smiles play at the corners of her mouth.

Her hands came up, fluttering for a moment on his shoulders and biceps, before coming to rest softly on his chest, her fingers just skimming the bare skin exposed by his ridiculous costume. Then she rocked forward a bit, pressing against his hard length and he loosed a growl at the pleasure that coursed through him. God, he hadn’t even kissed her yet and this was already one of the most erotic moments of his life. 

“Oliver.”

It was soft. Hopeful. His name on her lips was the answer to every question his heart had ever asked. He brushed his thumb across her cheekbone.

“You want me to stay?”

“I do.” His voice was steady and sure.

“What’re you doing here? I thought… I mean… you told me you weren’t coming. Tommy swore you weren’t coming.” The nerves in her voice made him freeze.

“Do you not want me here – I thought, I mean I hoped...” he trailed off as his stomach plummeted at the thought that she was disappointed to see him.

“No! No. It’s just… you’re probably wondering about this, and I can explain, really…” she gestured down her body at her costume with a nervous laugh, and Oliver raised a brow in amusement. She was nervous about his reaction to her costume?

“Felicity,” he tightened his hold on her waist to get her attention and felt more than heard her breath catch.

Her eyes locked onto his own once more.

“I… you seemed like you might come to the party, and… I just… I needed to see you.” He focused on her expressive face. Just as she seemed to calm, and the embarrassment left her eyes, he found he couldn’t resist the opportunity.  

He lowered his face to the soft spot between her neck and shoulder, nuzzling the hood aside. She tilted her head on instinct, baring more of her neck. He breathed her in deep, rubbing his scruff against her creamy, soft skin and felt more than heard her moan. He wanted to nip at her and soothe it with his tongue, suck and nip and lick till she was begging him for more. Wanted to leave a mark on her so that all the other men in here knew to stay the hell away from her. The hand at her waist slid to her lower back and pressed her ever closer. He couldn’t stop his own hips from rolling into her if he wanted to. And he absolutely did not want to.

He was hard as steel right now and the need to bury himself deep inside her was instinctual, visceral. Her answering whimper and the way she pulled him even closer made him think he wasn’t alone in that feeling.

“Felicity,” he whispered into her skin, “We are _absolutely_ going to discuss your choice in costume. In detail. But just for the record, you look amazing in my color.”

“Oh!”

Her surprised gasp made him smile against her skin.  

Nuzzling her hair further aside he slowly trailed his lips up her neck to her ear, not kissing her, just caressing her skin until he reached his goal. The industrial piercing that had taunted him for months. He dragged his lips and scruff over it, his teeth locking just enough to tug. Her hips bucked against him and she gasped his name, and, _fuck,_ he wanted to hear that again and again. Wanted to devote entire days solely to seeing how many different ways he could find to pull that sound from her. To discover what other sounds he could pull from her.

A loud cheer went up from the crowd, startling them both back to reality, which was probably a good thing. He released her ear and buried his face in the crook of her neck, cursing himself for losing track of his surroundings so thoroughly. God, he hadn’t even kissed her yet and he was totally oblivious to the world around him.

“Wow. Ya. Yes. Umm… good thing for loud noises, right? Because if you keep doing that, I cannot be held responsible for my actions. And then the bouncers are going to throw _us_ out of here.” Her voice was low and breathless in his ear.

“I don’t care if we get thrown out of here, as long as we get thrown out together,” he admitted shyly. Evidently giving into his feelings made him super sappy. But, Felicity didn’t seem to mind.

He pulled back to look at her and she smiled. Simply smiled. The erotic atmosphere from just seconds earlier morphing into something deeper, something tender.

“But as I own the place, there’s no chance we’re getting thrown out of here.” His smile was cheeky, and she couldn’t help but huff a laugh before she shook her head to clear her thoughts. His eyes were tracing all over her, searching; his hands brushing along her arms and then up to cup her cheeks.

“Oliver, not that I’m not loving every second of this, and _wow_ does that scruff feel even better than I imagined, but …. What... what are we doin– ?”

“Are you okay? Did those guys- ” He cut off her question. God knew they needed to talk, but he’d suddenly remembered what brought them to this position in the first place and a wave of rage coursed through him.

“No. _No_. I’m fine Oliver.”

He furrowed his brow, looking her over frantically like he could find some injury she was hiding.

“Oliver.”

He continued to look her over, running his free hand up and down her side.

“Oliver!”

His eyes snapped back to hers, but his hand kept running over her in a searching motion. Over her ribs, just brushing the lower edge of her breast, down her side and hip to her thigh. He felt smooth, bare, warm skin and nearly cursed. She let out an adorable yelp. 

 _God_ , her skirt was short.

“I’m fine. Promise. You got here just in time…. and you really need to stop doing that because it’s incredibly distracting,” she grabbed his hand and guided it back around her waist. “And I can’t believe I just moved your hand off my bare leg. What is wrong with me?”

He smiled and swept a thumb over her cheekbone, the rage he’d felt getting pushed to the background again by her words alone.

“Though if I’d had my tablet with me I could have handled those assholes too. You, Officer Queen, could have just handled the clean-up.”

He huffed a laugh. Guess she’d forgotten her desire to talk about what was going on between them. A pretty large part of him felt an inordinate amount of pride at being able to sidetrack that brilliant mind of hers with just the barest of touches.

But she was right, they needed to address it.

This – _they_ – were too important to just push blindly ahead without talking. He didn’t want to mess this up. Didn’t want this to be a rushed hookup like he’d had so many times in his life before the island. He knew this was something different. Special. The type of chance that came around once in a lifetime. And he was willing to take it slow if it meant they didn’t mess it up.

“Let’s get out of here and we can talk about –,” he began, only to be cut off by her ramble.

“Of course, I don’t know where I’d hide my tablet in this getup. It’s not like I have pockets.”

He looked down at her costume like he strangely needed to confirm it did indeed lack pockets before he tried to get her back on track, and quickly got sidetracked himself.

Her costume.

_His costume._

How had he forgotten that for even a second?

Felicity was wearing his costume and it _was_ tight. It fit her like a glove.

 _Fuck._ She’d probably fit him like a glove.

The thought burst through his mind before he could stop it and sent a powerful tidal wave of arousal crashing over him. He nearly took her right against the bar, crowds and necessary conversations be damned.

She continued on, seemingly oblivious to his sudden impulse. “And it wouldn’t fit in the quiver. Believe me, I tried. My quiver is just too small and tight. Not even sure a full-sized arrow would fit in there, just these ‘party arrows’ my mom had made.” She made air quotes around the last part and he found himself wondering what the hell a party arrow was when she sidetracked him once again.

“Hey – we should test it! Want to put your arrow in my quiver?”

Well, that got him to focus and the answer was _fuck yes_.

His chest rumbled as he stepped impossibly closer, pressing her against the bar. One hand slipped back down to her bare thigh, hitching her close, while the other slid into her hair and gripped the nape of her neck, tilting her face up to his.

“ _Felicity_.” He didn’t intend it to come out so sharp, but he really needed her to stop saying what she was saying. The mental images alone were enough to make him come undone.

“What? Come on! It would be fun. It’s not like I want to steal one of your giant arrows. I just asked if ….”

He watched as she replayed the words in her head, a blush spreading like wildfire across her face and down her chest.

“Oh my God, Oliver, why don’t you ever stop me?!”

She laid her forehead against his chest and heaved a sigh. “It seems like I proposition you on a daily basis when I don’t even mean to. Not that I don’t want to proposition you, but it would be really nice if it only happened when I intended it to happen.”

The urge to kiss her was overwhelming. He was going to kiss her and never stop. He would happily devote the rest of his life, every last second of it, to listening to her innuendo-laden rambles and kissing her senseless.

But, he didn’t want their first kiss to be in a crowded nightclub. So, he simply held her tight and urged his body to calm down.

“Because you’re you, and you’re perfect, and I love every open, honest thought that crosses that damn brilliant mind of yours.”

She looked up at him in surprise, looking for any sign that he was joking, and whatever she saw in his expression must have reassured her because she smiled that smile he liked to think she saved only for him. Then she raised her own hand and cupped his cheek, gently running her nails through his scruff. He closed his eyes and marveled at how content and yet turned on she could make him with so simple a gesture. What had he done to deserve this? Why did she want him?

“Just for the record,” she stated quietly, somehow reading him as she always had, “because you’re you, and you’re perfect, too. At least to me you are.”

He raised both hands to her hood and slid it back. He needed to see her. Needed to talk to her. There were so many things he needed to tell her, so many questions he wanted to ask, but all that came out was, “Why?”

She looked adorably confused for a moment, tilting her head to the side in that way of hers. “Why what? Why don’t I have pockets? Have you seen me? This thing is tight. There’s nowhere to put a pocket.”

His hands settled on her hips and squeezed.

“I am _well aware_ of how tight your costume is Felicity.”

She blushed at the barely checked lust in his voice.

“Well yours is tight too mister, so no judging.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, debating whether to laugh or throw her over his shoulder and head somewhere more private.

Shaking those thoughts from his head for the time being, he looked down into her eyes once more. The atmosphere shifted again as they both took a moment to hold each other. The weight of the moment taking hold.

“Felicity. Why…? What…?” He trailed off, unsure of where to even begin. Why now? Why could you possibly want me? What are we doing? Should we be doing this? Am I reading this right? Is this really happening? The questions spiraled through him faster than he could process.

He watched as her blush deepened and spread. All the way down her chest. His eyes tracked it and then froze. She was wearing the small diamond and gold arrow necklace she’d worn on Monday. God, she was going to be the death of him. He raised a hand and gently traced the necklace with one callused finger, back and forth across her collarbones before coming to rest in the small hollow at the base of her neck, right over the arrow.  

She took a deep, steadying breath.

Her hands were drawing small, distracting circles on his chest. She was rarely at a loss for words, but his questions seemed to have stumped her. So, he waited. For her, he’d wait forever.

“Maybe those are questions best answered somewhere quieter.”

Fair enough.

“And _after_ I’ve had a few glasses of wine. Three. At least three. Maybe four? Do you know I haven’t even had _one_? And this seems like a conversation that requires wine. I was trying to catch Roy’s eye and get one from that stash you keep for me, and yes, I know about the stash. How you thought I wouldn’t find out it was you is beyond me, and why you wouldn’t want me to know–”

He squeezed her waist to stop her ramble, his hands so large against her tiny form that they spanned her ribs, his thumbs edging closer to the underside of her breasts. When she yelped in surprise, he couldn’t help but smile. Well, that was one way to stop her rambles and he looked forward to finding many, _many_ more.

“You were saying?” he prompted, getting her back on track.

She fixed him with an adorable mock glare before she noticed his devilish smile and that one of his hands was moving back to her bare thigh.

God, she fit perfectly in his arms. He was aware of every single place their bodies touched.

For long moments there was nothing but their shared breathing and the pulsing music of the club.

“Ummmm…. right. Yes. Yes. I was saying something. I was saying…,” she was still staring, transfixed, at his hand where it toyed with the edge of her skirt, one callused finger brushing against her bare skin. The flood of wetness that pooled in her core…. He’d barely touched her. What would it be like when those strong, callused fingers caressed her more intimately?

His hand stilled for a moment before coming to rest fully against her bare thigh and squeezing. A small whimper escaped her. She took in his smug smile and the raging lust in his eyes and just knew she’d said that last part out loud.

“Are you saying you want to find out?” Oliver knew his smile was smug, but he loved that he could read lust and heat in her eyes, the flush of her skin. Loved that he had such an effect on her. And absolutely adored that she totally ignored him and simply sighed in exasperation.

“Somewhere quiet, with wine...” he helped her along, removing his hand and just running one finger more solidly along her thigh. She rocked into his hips before she could stop herself. God, he couldn’t wait to touch her, hold her as he’d dreamed of, especially if just the tip of his finger could elicit that response.  

Felicity braced her hands on his chest to steady herself.

“Yes. Right. I think you should come for me,” she murmured into his chest before catching herself, her eyes flying back to his, wide with embarrassment. “ _With_ me. Come _with_ me. Oh God, that isn’t any better.”

He barely contained his laughter.

“Felicity, I would love to come with you, but I can guarantee that when I do, it won’t be quiet,” he imbued that statement with as much shameless innuendo as possible.

She smacked him lightly on his bicep. “I don’t know how I feel about you suddenly acknowledging all of my verbal slips.”

He didn’t know it was possible for a person to blush as fiercely as she was right then. He smiled and pulled her close.

“I meant we should go somewhere and talk. Somewhere quiet. With wine?” she finished with a hopeful look.

He couldn’t stop smiling. He couldn’t remember flirting with a woman ever being this fun or this natural. The crowd cheered again as a new song started up, somehow even louder than the previous one.

“That sounds perfect. Where do you have in mind?” he brushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

She shook herself and blinked a few times, determination now clear on her face. She raised up on her tip toes and leaned towards him to be heard over the music. He felt her lips brush the shell of his ear as she asked, her voice sure and steady now that she seemed to have regrouped, “You still have an office here, right? Thea hasn’t taken it over? That could work, or… oh!,” her voice took on a teasing tone, “Wanna see my Arrow cave?”

The words registered, and he laughed. Not a small laugh, but a full-on laugh like he hadn’t experienced since his youthful days running wild with Tommy and Thea as a kid.

Only Felicity.

Hugging her close, he pressed his forehead against hers for a moment before pulling back and giving her a suggestive smile. “You want to show me your arrow cave?” He couldn’t help himself. Finally being able to tease her about her inadvertent sexual innuendos was just too damn fun to pass up.

“Oh frack. I didn’t mean that to sound so dirty. I meant _the_ Arrow Cave, you know, _our_ Arrow Cave, the _real_ Arrow Cave. It’s just, I’m dressed as the Arrow so it’s kind of my Arrow Cave tonight, and I never get to call it that, so I figured why not? When will I ever again get to ask you if you want to see my Arrow Cave? It wasn’t a euphemism for my….my…” her hands were gesturing about wildly now.  “You know what. Forget it. There’s no walking that one back.” She sighed in defeat.

“Felicity?”

“Oliver?”

He paused until she was looking at him again.

“We don’t call it that.”

“Yes, we d-.”

“We don’t.”

She opened her mouth to protest but it turned into a gasp of his name when he stopped her by leaning forward till his mouth touched the shell of her ear, just brushing the industrial piercing he was quickly discovering to be a weak point for her. “We _don’t_ call it that. But in answer to your question…” he trailed off as he straightened and signaled to Roy, who handed him two glasses and a bottle of Felicity’s favorite wine, “yes, I’d love the see your Arrow Cave.”

He was rewarded with a blinding smile from her as he reached behind her to slip the bottle into her quiver, and, damn, she was right, it _was_ a tight fit.

With the glasses securely in one hand, and her hand in his other, he smiled widely. “Lead the way.”

Trailing behind her as she wove her way through the crowd towards the hidden entrance to the Lair, he got his first clear look at her ass in the leather skirt and her legs in a pair of sky high, sparkly green stilettos. The wave of desire that swept through him made him nearly trip over his own feet.

And she thought he had a super power.

Halloween was fucking fantastic. Officially his favorite holiday. And maybe he’d be using those handcuffs after all.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note there will be a ratings change for Chapter 6 - the smut is coming!


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